To Solemly Swear
by TwoBitesOfTheApple
Summary: One day they would have a little boy; be married; die together. But Lily and James didn't know that was coming - he was simply James being James, and she was Lily, with enough heartache to last her short lifetime. One day they would be happy together, but right then they were just muddling through the mess.
1. New Years Day 1977

The first thing he was aware of was he pounding – how the light was too harsh even through his eyelids; how that noise grated on his actual brain; and the sheets that chafed his skin so violently.

He groaned stilling all movements, but the crawling feeling remained inside him and – there! Remus rolled to the side and threw up wretchedly over the side of his bed. Actually, that made things a bit better.

He opened his eyes at the chuckling, just so that he could glare at whoever it was, and promptly snapped them shut again.

He was never drinking alcohol again.

Ever.

* * *

Sirius chuckled again as his friend groaned and moaned, rolling around in bed and then alternately lying very still as he tried to find someplace more comfortable. Sirius wished him luck.

On the bed next to him, James was slugging water like it was going out of fashion, and Peter was throwing up in the bathroom. As for himself – Sirius had his fair share of hangovers, and whilst this was far from being the most mild, neither was it the worst. He'd be fine in a couple of hours – and it was so worth it!

* * *

Lily grabbed onto the side of the toilet bowl again, but the nausea passed without making itself felt any more tangibly.

Marlene soothed hr hair back from her face, handing her a bottle of water to wash away the acid in her mouth.

"Why does Lily get the toilet?" She heard Mary grumble apologetically, and slipped out, taking with her the brief respite from the ache in her head.

Lily slumped against the granite countertop, her face sagging miserably – nothing was worth this!

* * *

Mar at least looked in a better state than Lily did. Her hair was tied back where Lily's was everywhere – and she managed a grimace that could even have been a smile, albeit an ugly one.

"I'm a mess," Mary moaned, resting her head against Marlene's cool arm.

"Yes," Marlene agreed, smiling down at her hung-over friend.

"I hate Sirius Black," Mary said, hr voice devoid of all emotion – dead, helpless.

"Yes," Marlene said calmly – though, as she did she got a vivid flashback to the previous night, where Mary and Sirius had been partaking in a private activity that didn't look particularly malicious to her

Why people insisted on drinking alcohol until they were in that state bypassed her completely.

* * *

"You girls look worse than I feel," Sirius greeted cheerfully, taking the chair to Marlene's right.

Lily and Mary shot him looks of pure hatred, and Marlene smothered a laugh as she took a sip of her pumpkin juice.

Sirius looked her over – those cool grey eyes expressionless – and raised an eyebrow, "You really didn't have a drop, did you McKinnon?"

Marlene shrugged, "You wouldn't know, you were busy." She looked pointedly at Mary, whose only visible feature was her brunette hair as she stared mournfully at her plate.

Sirius followed her gaze and smirked, "Yes, I was busy. But guess what -" he paused dramatically, "I'm psychic."

Marlene looked back, unimpressed. There were some things that living in close contact with Sirius Black taught you – and not trusting a word her said was one of them.

"You're psychic." She drawled, mockingly, just as the rest of the boy's crew reached them.

"Caught me," James Potter agreed, helping himself to the last of the orange juice.

Sirius rolled his eyes, "Not _you, I'm _psychic!"

James shook his head at Marlene when Sirius glanced the other way, and she smiled back.

"So what am I thinking now?" She challenged, taking a bite from the eggs growing cold on her plate.

A strange expression crossed Sirius' face as they looked on – a blankness that conveyed concentration.

"You look constipated." Marlene told him.

"McKinnon," He warned right back, without blinking.

As though from a trance, Sirius shook himself awake, looking startled as he glanced around at them all. Marlene smirked at his antics.

"So?" She wanted to know, leaning in and narrowing her eyes.

Sirius leant backwards, glancing down his own body in surprise to a part of his anatomy that she could guess at, "McKinnon! You have a boyfriend!" He put on a scandalised tone.

Marlene and James laughed loudly, whilst Sirius feigned blushing.

"Shut _up_!" Remus groaned loudly from opposite Sirius, closing his eyes and putting his head in his hands.

Marlene, still giggling, gave and apology, taking another hearty bite of her breakfast.

"So how come you two don't look so hard done by?" She waved her fork at James and Sirius, who both leant backwards to avoid being hit by lingering eggs. "You must have had the most to drink, between the two of you."

James shrugged his broad shoulders, pulling a face, "We're just used to it." Sirius nodded his agreement.

"Good for fucking some." Lily growled from her end of the table – her first coherent words of the morning.

Sirius craned around Marlene to get a look at the unfortunate ginger, but James, who was on the opposite side of the table, didn't have to and was already talking by the time that Sirius saw her.

"Not feeling too good, Evans?" He teased gently, grinning as he paused in eating his breakfast.

Lily took a deep breath.

Sirius groaned softly, and exchanged a look with Marlene. Here they went.

"Do I look like I want to talk to you, Potter?" She snapped taking forehead from the table to pierce him with tired, angry eyes.

James was unperturbed, "Just saying. I mean, you're always saying about setting a good example and here you are – not even seventeen!" No one bothered to point out that he, too, was underage.

"Let's get you two back upstairs," Marlene got to her feet, helping Lily shakily to hers.

Lily opened her mouth to retort something to James, but snapped her mouth shut again just as nausea surged again.

"C'mon Mare," Marlene beckoned, and the smallest member of the group rose to her feet silently and followed down the hall.

"Pass the bacon," James asked Sirius, as they left.

"Hope he chokes on it," Lily muttered, and Marlene laughed. She half-carried the other two up two flights of stairs, along several corridor and through too many doors, she left Lily in bed tucked Mary in and left a bucket by both of their beds. She picked up her book, flicked out the light and, with soft steps, hurried downstairs to the coon room and the fire.

""If you _will_ thank me, let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not deny. But your family owe me nothing.""

Marlene sighed to herself, curling into a ball and reading quietly out loud to herself.

""Much as I respect them, I believe, I thought only of you,"" a second voice finished in her ear, wrapping around her heart as she leant back into the heat of the body that joined her on the soft sofa.

"Will," she whispered, and he kissed her shoulder through her cardigan. "I wasn't expecting you back today."

"I missed you," her boyfriend of three years replied and she turned to look at him – his brown eyes and blonde hair, his crooked teeth, his freckles.

"I missed you, too," she kissed him softly and felt them fit back together like serrated edges of broken glass; truly, she was only whole when she was with him.

"Pride and Prejudice?" He asked breathlessly when she pulled away, turning the book so that he could see the cover. "Is that a first edition?" He smiled in wonderment, his fingers trailing the old pages.

Mary hummed into his neck.

"Where'd you get that?" Will wanted to know.

Marlene smiled, "The love of my life gave it to me." She pulled back, tracing his jaw with her fingernails.

"Sounds like a cool guy," Will swallowed as her fingernails grazed his Adam's apple.

"He is."

Will nodded, "He must love you a lot."

"He does."

Will moved in to kiss her again, hr eyelashes fluttering closed.

"Will-boy!" A figure hurtled between them, taking up most of the room on the love-seat and forcing them apart. "You're back!"

Will rubbed his nose, "Hello Sirius."

Sirius grinned, "Hi."

There was a beat of awkwardness where Marlene and Will tried to remember where – and maybe what – they were, and Sirius waited for them to be at the appropriate stage.

"So how was your Christmas?" He asked finally, when he got bored.

"Good. Uneventful." Will summed up shortly.

"Boring, then," Sirius commented, reaching for Marlene's book. She pulled it out of reach and he stuck out his tongue.

"You didn't go back to James'?" Will asked, his voice just ever so slightly biting. Marlene recognised the feeling – she wanted Sirius to go, too.

"He stayed," Sirius said lightly, the give going either above his head or ignored. "His parents had work." He picked up the paper from the low table next to the sofa.

Will sighed – they would never get him to leave, now.

However Sirius, never one to be bound by expectations or able to resist surprising people, then hopped to his feet, grinned down at the infuriated couple and bounded off, whistling to himself tunelessly.

Marlene rolled her eyes skywards, fighting to find the place their conversation had been at before.

"So, where did you find it?" She looked to her book, the smile already spreading over her face as she envisioned the hours-long hunt through London, the wheedling of the old storekeeper to give up his most prized possession – how he told him all about his girlfriend, Marlene, and how it was her favourite book, and how this, finally swung the decision n his favour.

"Well," Will began, tucking her under his arm as he began his narrative.

* * *

Lily's hand didn't drop to her pocket immediately. Maybe because, although attacks on muggle-borns were becoming frequently more common (though everyone would deny it) she recognised the hand on her arm; maybe it was because she was hung-over.

Either way, the boy spoke before she had time to reach for her wand.

"Lily," Severus Snape whispered, pulling her into the deserted classroom he had been waiting in.

"Severus!" She hissed, rubbing her wrist where he had seized her as she watched him close the door and lean against it, arms folded.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, looking at the floor, and in it echoes a thousand apologies – each one sincere, but each one to be followed by a new one.

Lily looked at her childhood best friend, "It's fine," She promised, but she didn't take a step forward to receive his embrace as she would once have done. "But what do you want, Snape?"

He flinched when she used his surname; it hurt her, too.

"Lily, please," he started, taking a step forwards and extending an arm in supplication, "I'm _sorry_!" His mouth – usually so inexpressive – pinched down n the corners, "I didn't mean to, I would never mean to," he hesitated, barely discernible but she caught it, "hurt you." He finished.

Lily smiled slightly, "I know."

The boy blinked at her – his black eyes hidden for the briefest of seconds and when they returned they were reluctantly surprised, "You know?"

"Of course I know," she sighed, "you wouldn't want me hurt." It was all true, so far, what they were saying. Severus never would hurt her, not on purpose.

Something passed between them, not tangible but there to be taken if they so wished. Neither of them moved, the moment passed, and Severus spoke.

"Well then, why can't we be like before?" For a heartbeat, he was the little boy Lily had first met – the one that brought her dreams to life, who could make all her wildest imaginings true; who was admirable, because no matter how difficult his situation he still made the most of it – for her.

And then the illusion shattered, he was sixteen and he had broken her heart.

"Like before?" Lily scoffed, turning away and running a hand through her hair. Her head hurt, her bones ached; she had only gotten up to grab some food and water.

When she turned back, Severus had appraised her fully for the first time.

"Rough night?" He asked, eyes hooded. Now, when his mouth turned the wrong way it was in distaste; Severus didn't approve of getting drunk – it was childish, he said.

In the way he always had, Severus got under her skin, "It was New Year's Eve!" She defended herself, hugging her arms around her body.

"_Exactly!_" Severus took a step away from the door, towards her; she stepped back and he checked himself. "Lily," he whispered, "it's a new year! Forgive and forget? Turning over a new leaf? It was you who used to like clichés like that!"

Lily couldn't deny that – she still used clichés overly.

Tears pricked her eyes. She didn't want to be here, having this conversation in this dark and dingy room. She didn't want to think about what happened between them; or what could still happen between them. She missed him; and all he was doing was reminding her of that. But she couldn't just _forgive_ him, could she?

But she missed him.

"Please let me out" She whispered, turning her head away to try to hide the tears in her eyes.

He didn't miss them, though, "Lily! Lily, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." his voice trailed off.

And wasn't that the point of it; he never meant to hurt her.

Abashed, silenced, Severus took a step away from the door and opened it for her.

She was going to sweep past without looking at him, without talking to him; she would put this conversation – make that this whole day – in the box filed to never be opened in her mind.

But she couldn't.

Because, as much as Severus never meant to hurt her neither did she ever meant to hurt hi, and that would.

"I'll think about it," She said, and she left.

* * *

Far above them a boy – the same age – sat cross legged on his bed. Two of his friends slept soundly, and he was looking for the third. He hadn't meant to see, but found himself watching two black dots in a lowly room until one managed to eave.

He could imagine her being sad to go.


	2. Quidditch and Snape

"Kelt, go on a run!" James yelled down the lines at the boy who had just dropped the ball – for the third time that night.

As for the rest of them: James surveyed them with a critical eye.

"Rich, keep your elbows in," he ordered the boy to his right, as he went to take Kelt's place in the line-up.

He loved this: the feel of the quaffle under his fingers, the arc of the ball through the air; it made him smile.

The smile fell from his face as Diana threw the ball back to him; her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Jesus, Di, throw slower why don't you?" He grumbled, "I mean, why not give us time to grow up and have children, so that those children can intercept the ball!"

Diana shot him a filthy look – they had been out for two hours, her arms were shaking with fatigue and she _wasn't even a chaser_.

"C'mon James, she's not even a chaser! When will she ever need to throw the quaffle?" Ellie pointed out for Di, diagonal to his left.

"Concentrate on your own ball; you're dropping your hands too low." He shot back, without even glancing at her.

"You're dropping your hands too low," Lucy mimicked.

James rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide the affectionate smirk he sent in her direction.

"Okay, bring it in!" He called – waving to Kelt to signal him as well.

He looked at his team – the sun was setting behind them – and felt a surge of warmth. They really could be – with all their similar colourings and the same smile gracing their faces – part of the same family.

"Okay, does anyone have anything they want to go through?" He asked when they had all assembled in a rough group around him.

"Can we go through Gemstone?" Rich requested immediately. Several others nodded.

James sighed – Gemstone was their newest manoeuvre and no one seemed to be able to get the hang of it, "Gemstone will take too long to set up right now. We'll sort it on Tuesday, is that ok?" Again, nods. "Anything else? Good, well go twice more around the pitch and then you can go in." He turned his back on them and flicked his wand at the quaffles lying gently in place along the ground. Together, they soared upwards and into the bag of equipment he had brought with him. After that, he levitated his team's broomsticks over to the entrance (and exit) so that they could just pick them up on their way out.

"Taking it a bit slow, aren't you Hales?" He shouted over. The Gryffindor girl – far in front of the rest of the pack – flicked two fingers at him, and James chuckled.

He waited, out of courtesy, for his team to leave before setting off for the castle himself, falling in step with Lucy and Ellie.

"You ok, Captain?" Lucy chirped, glancing over at him from the other side of Ellie.

James shot her a distracted smile, "Never better. You two were good today."

Both girls beamed at the compliment.

"You're actually nice off the pitch," Lucy teased, nudging Ellie who laughed but said nothing.

"Watch it, Applebee," James joked right back, but he wasn't looking at her anymore. His head craned around; his eyes fixed on a lonely silhouette by the lake.

"I'll see you around," he threw to them over his shoulder, as he ran over to where Kelt was walking by himself back to the castle.

"Kelt!" James called, as he neared.

The boy shot him a look – not quite dirty, not quite weary (that was Kelt's thing – no one really knew what he was about) – but allowed the Captain to draw level with him; he couldn't have outrun him, anyway.

"If this is about dropping the quaffle, Potter, then -"

James cut him off, "It's not." He didn't wait to tell the boy that he was sorry for being harsh on him (because he wasn't) or that he'd be better in the future (because he wouldn't) or even for a reply (because who cared?) "Could you take this up to the dormitory?" He passed him his Quidditch bag – signed by the entire England squad, of course; a present from his father the year before – and hurried off.

He jogged around the corner before settling into a fast walk, his eyes on his target the whole time.

He wished he didn't notice the way the light reflected off the lake onto her bare forearm, dancing across the skin there.

"Alright, Evans?" He greeted, sitting beside he without invitation.

She pulled her arm from the lake, glaring at hi, and pulled her legs into her stomach between them. "What do you want?" She asked, her voice bored though her eyes glittered angrily.

"Me?" James leant back on his elbows, "I was just coming to check you weren't planning on throwing yourself into that -" he gestured to the lake "- anytime soon." He quirked his head and smirked at her.

Lily turned away – as always, he'd said the wrong thing.

"Oh, cheer up Evans. It might never happen!" He pointed out, and his arm twitched with the urge to nudge her as he said it (as he would anyone else).

She didn't answer.

James watched her for another minute – the silence stretched taut between them – before finally lying down.

"Fine then. I'll just wait here whilst you answer." His eyes slid closed.

James' eyesight had never been good – since he was little, his house-elves had to escort him to have his glasses remade, his eyes rechecked. And it had never really bothered him, having to wear the glasses. He could get his eyesight repaired, when he was seventeen – only five months away! – but he didn't know if he would. And moments like these were exactly why: though – actually, because – his eyesight was bad, his other senses were heightened.

Lying on his back, eyes closed, he could not only smell the grass, he cold smell the cream and sunshine and daisies of her skin; he could feel the damp beneath him, but he could also fell her gaze across his skin.

"I'm expected company, actually," she said calmly, jerking him out of his sense exploration with surprise.

He doubted that. No Gryffindor would choose to leave the castle at this time of night – it was _freezing_ – they weren't that stupid; it made no sense: they weren't hidden from sight and they were far from comfortable. At this time, everyone would be in their dormitories – and all the dorms overlooked them.

Well, all of the dorms apart from –

And, just like that, he knew.

"Snape." He concluded, and was surprised at how easily the word sounded leaving his mouth.

For a second, adrenaline stopped his anger; his disappointment; his – he squashed the naming of emotions, getting to his feet shakily.

She blinked up at him from the ground at for the first time seemed to register he was there.

"You're still meeting up with him?" James asked, though he knew the answer; his voice shook this time.

She glared, stumbling to her own feet though he still stood over her, "And what?"

James rubbed a frustrated hand through his hair, "He's trash, Evans! He called you – look at what he said to you!" How could she not see? She was so darn clever but so _thick_. Snape? How could she trust _Snape?_

Lily glowered at him – for a second he halted at her furious beauty – but then the anger rushed on and he glowered right back.

"I know perfectly well what he said, Potter, and I can judge for myself!" She spat.

"Oh, really?" James mocked, waving his arm in a gesture that seemed to encompass the entire situation, "And that's why you're still meeting up with him? Your good judgement?"

Lily, as she always did, attacked so that she didn't have to defend, "And I suppose you weren't to blame?"

For a moment, he was stumped.

They had this conversation a million times; they were too stubborn to compromise.

"You can't force someone to say something Evans," he reminded her shortly.

"You made his life living hell." She hissed blackly.

"Evans, he's fucking evil!" James shouted, and in the still air it echoed off the stars and the water.

But she was more than a match for him – "You've done worse!"

James laughed, hollowly, "You can't honestly believe that." And when he received no answer, he pushed on, "Evans, I hex people. I taunt them. Yeah, sometimes I bully them -" ("Sometimes," she scoffed) "-_but-_" and he raised his voice slightly over her protestations "- I would never, ever, turn my back on my friends."

His words, so blunt and inelegant, were cruelly absorbed, and he saw upset wash over her face before she turned her back to him.

"He would never mean to hurt me." She told him, her voice steady.

James chewed over how to reply: Believe what you want; you're wrong. But he still does.

Yet, after he left, his Quidditch kit still clinging to his tired body, only one thought – along with that of her face, so sad – permeated his dreams that night:

Neither do I.

* * *

The stars weren't so beautiful afterwards. And Lily was terrified that they never would be again. The world weighed heavily on her heart; too heavy, it brought her down with it. The memory of tears on her pillow waved over her silently and her lip trembled.

No one could blame her for trying to ease that weight – it was choking her, killing her. And, if renewing her friendship with Snape was the only option that presented itself, she would take it wholeheartedly. He had helped her before, and he would help her now, no matter what Potter said and thought.

What would he know, anyway? With his perfect little life and perfect little friends; never a care in the world.

"Lily," Snape greeted. He didn't sit down, she rose to his level.

"Hello, Severus," she replied, and saw the moment that he registered the use of his first name as a slow ignition of hope.

She wondered if she was the last person still to use it.

"You're upset," he noted blandly, but with a concerned expression.

"No way," she mumbled sarcastically, wiping under her eyes for any getaway tears remained traitorously.

"One of your friends?" He guessed.

She shook her head, smiling at him in a way that she hoped would inspire him to close the distance and envelop her in his arms; she needed to be held, right then.

But instead he took a step back, folding his arms, pulling a face.

"What Potter said to you, then." He surmised, breathing heavily. He stared at a point over her shoulder.

"What?" Lily struggled to keep up.

"I saw you together," Snape spat, his eyes hard on hers. "Friends now? I expect better."

Lily's mouth fell open in a perfect 'o'. She couldn't even be angry she was so surprised. He thought they were friends?

"Didn't take you long." Snape accused. "I mean, a few months ago you took every opportunity to slander him. You _used _to think he was arrogant; you _used_ to think he was a good for nothing. Revised that opinion did you? Have you forgotten -"

"Enough." Lily's voice was quiet.

Snape shut up anyway, watching her with a greedy expression that quickly reverberated back to his signature blankness as she continued.

"I can't be friends with you. I can't be _anything_ with you, ok? No -" she held up a hand as he tried to interrupt "- let me get this out. Yes, I was talking to Potter earlier. Yes, he tried to convince me not to be friends with you. But you know what I did? I defended you. I told him you were good, that you cared, that you never meant to hurt me. And the thing is -" she laughed, though there was nothing funny about the situation "- you never did. But you still _do _hurt me, Severus. Every time you hurt me, and I can't do it anymore."

She didn't let him sleep; too many times they had reached this point and then he would talk her back around.

And she never guessed that her thoughts had briefly chimed with those of a boy who, right then, she hated more than anything else.

* * *

Sirius hummed to himself as he passed the Entrance Hall. He clicked his teeth together in a timeless, meaningless rhythm; he wiggled his head a little bit; he popped his lips.

God, but he was bored.

Quidditch was over – Sirius had run into Kelt quite literally as the boy entered the dormitory and Sirius himself hurriedly left it, and a freshly awoken Remus, behind. So where was James? If Sirius had the map, he would've used it (but it was in the dorms...with Remus) ad if James had the mirror he would've used that (but James never took it to practice). So there was Sirius, tramping through the castle like a commoner with no destination in mind other than James, and only random stragglers such as Will – exiting the Hospital Wing – to amuse him.

"Sirius!" A voice called, distantly, but even as Sirius grinned and turned he knew it wouldn't be James. There was no way that Sirius hadn't heard him climbing the stairs in that noisy way of his.

"Regulus," he greeted in surprise, as the younger boy ran swiftly to join him on the ground floor.

"Hey," Regulus smiled awkwardly, shifting his weight to the other leg and running his hand through his hair that was so like Sirius' own.

"So what's up?" Sirius asked after a broken pause.

Regulus shrugged, going for the nonchalant look, but Sirius saw through him and smiled.

"Nothing, just came to say hi." He shrugged again.

"Oh, right," Sirius teased, nudging his little brother's arm gently.

Regulus smiled, despite himself.

"How are you?" Regulus wanted to know, and Sirius felt a rush of affection for him; something that happened rarely and far between.

Still, despite being the Gryffindor of the two Sirius had hesitated before answering.

"I'm good," Sirius said, "really good. What about you? Good Christmas?"

What he didn't say was: Were you ok? Did anything happen?

He would rather not damage this fragile bond with his brother – the only blood-family member he was on speaking terms with.

"Yeah," Regulus answered, without much enthusiasm – Sirius didn't know which question he answered.

"Good." Sirius hovered awkwardly for a moment. "Well, I have to be..."

"Yeah!" Regulus agreed, willing. He backed away, not turning his back, "I'll see you around."

"See you," Sirius bid him goodbye, and as his baby brother turned Sirius couldn't help calling him back,

"Regulus?"

He couldn't help liking the look of anticipation on Regulus' face; the eagerness to hear whatever his big brother had to say.

"Happy New Year." Sirius smiled.

"Merry Christmas." And then they went their separate ways – Regulus back to those who hated Sirius; Sirius to find his other brother: the one to whom he could say what he meant to.

But, still, that was easier said than done, and it wasn't until Lily came bursting through the double doors (thankfully not seeing him through the thick of her tears) and Snape followed a few short minutes later (he _did_ see, but chose that day to leave him with a simple smirk) that Sirius finally twigged.

"Hey," he muttered five minutes later, dropping to the wooden flooring beside his best mate.

James didn't spare him a look, "Hey."

How was it, Sirius thought, that everything was so easy with James?

How was it, James thought, that Lily Evans was so _thick_?

"So I saw Evans." Sirius said, guessing the direction of James' thoughts.

To his credit, James didn't give a flicker of emotion; but Sirius knew him better than flickers.

"She was crying."

At that, James couldn't help it – his head snapped round to frown at Sirius in the dim light.

"Snape didn't look happy either, when he came in a minute later." Sirius shrugged and looked away – knowing without seeing the expression on James' face.

"I didn't know they still saw one another." He finished quietly.

He heard James swallow, "Yeah," he replied hoarsely," apparently so."

Then, the truest magic Sirius had ever seen, James shook off his selfish misery and turned towards him, picking his legs off of the edge of the Quidditch stands and tucking them underneath himself.

"How was Regulus?"

Sirius didn't bother to ask how he knew.

"Do you want to play?" He said instead, gesturing to the deserted pitch and the two brooms he had brought with him.

James didn't grin or smirk; he didn't press Sirius for an answer.

"I bow-truckle the cleansweep," he picked up the broom, swung his leg over and flew out.


	3. Not Really The Beginning

Mary McDonald was often the first one to arrive to the first lesson after lunch. It was because, she told people, she liked to eat with Hayley, who was always running around to find something or other she had lost and therefore had to eat quickly.

As such, no one really noticed how little she ate.

So it wasn't a rare occurrence to find her by herself in sixth period Defence Against the Dark Arts on Mondays, or near Potions of Tuesday – in fact, there were several students who took advantage of this regularity on her timetable when she would be lone to ask her something that they would not normally be comfortable saying in front of a crowd.

So, as Mary McDonald loitered near Herbology on Wednesday, she was thinking pleasantly about whether she would be asked out this lunch time, and if so who by?

She hoped that cute Ravenclaw (Griffiths? Was that his name?) who always blushed when she spoke, or, to contrast, maybe Sirius, who she had never seen blush and could hardly be counted as cute. Okay, so the chance was slim of Sirius Black hunting her out to ask her o Hogsmeade because he didn't like to ask in front of others – but there was a first time for everything.

She smiled at the thought, putting a hand to her hair just to check if it still was styled right (in case...).

She missed the footsteps behind her until it was too late.

"Well, well," the voice drawled, and she whipped around to face it.

"Mary. Mary _McDonald_." Mulciber sneered her name, giving snide looks to those flanking him – Avery, who she knew (and wished she didn't) and a boy she didn't know (and wished that to continue).

"Mulciber." She took a step backwards – into the wall of the greenhouses; Mucliber's mile deepened.

"Mary McDonald the Mudblood." He hissed, his blue eyes widening violently.

"Mudblood." Avery growled, spitting on the floor.

Mary lifted her head, despite the heat in her cheeks. She'd be damned if she showed any weakness in front of them – if she refused to play their games maybe they'd go away, that was what Lily always said.

But then Mulciber took a quick step forward – far too close to be comfortable for her, and she whimpered involuntarily. Her skin itched to run away from him, her stomach sucked in so that there would be added space.

"Mudblood." Mulciber hissed, and his face got ever closer to hers as his hand reached into his robes.

Quick as she culd, Mary thrust her own hand into her pocket, searching for the wooden handle of her wand and if she just got to it in time she might stand a chance...

Then, like a death sentence, Avery's wand was pressed into her throat hard enough to hurt and she froze.

Mulciber pressed ever closer – over the ounding of her heart she thought he heard the third member of the paty laughing, and a sob rose i her stomach tht she had to swallow down.

Perhaps it was because he sensed her controlling her fear, but Mulciber finally cancelled the space between them, his legs flush with hers and his breaths coming hot and fast on her face that she turned away; his hand found her hip and gripped on too tight.

"Mudblood," he growled, low and guttural, "you're going to scream, one way or another."

Again, the others laughed.

Maybe this was it, Mary thought limply; maybe this was how it would end – to the sound of cruel laughter, and her racing frightened heart, and his _panting_.

It was that thought that finally snapped Mary from her stupor.

If she was going to die, it sure as hell wouldn't be to some bastard breathing.

Her fist, neatly folded, clipped Avery on the face – and in the time when he reeled away from her and Mulciber was realising what she'd done she pulled her knee up to smack him in the softest part of his stomach.

He doubled over, backing away from her and wheezing, and she skittered out of the way just as the third boy lunged.

There was no time to reach for a wand – Mary ran.

But, a five foot four girl could not keep two six foot boys at bay for long – Mary went barely give steps before Avery grabbed her, throwing her in the other's direction who pushed her to her knees, just as Mulciber was rising and wiping spittle from his jaw.

"You'll pay for that, Mudblood." And he brought out his wand.

Mary didn't close her eyes – and as such, she was the first to see James Potter come around the corner.

"Hey!" He shouted, and with a flick of his wand Mulciber was send flying in one direction and Avery in the other. The third was still grappling for control of his own weapon, and Mary was on her feet and moving.

"Get behind me." James ordered, throwing another hex and she obeyed without thinking.

Avery looked to be stunned, and Mulciber had odd looking warts suddenly sprouting on his face – but he was still active, and the boy looked unharmed, and James had lost the advantage of surprise. He was good, definitely, but they fought dirty.

"Potter! Mulciber! Hunter!" Sprout bellowed, even as Mary tried to find her wand so as to be of assistance to her saviour; the squat witch dashed around the corner, purple with fury. In relief, Mary dropped the wand she had so recently located.

Warily, James and the other two he fought lowered their weapons, glaring at each other with enough vehemence Mary was half surprised (or, she would have been, if adrenaline and fear hadn't blotted out all other emotion) that they didn't strike each other down that way alone.

If looks could kill, as Muggles said.

But, of course, none of those fighting _were_ Muggles – all three Purebloods, one on her side and two against. And Mary, the only Muggleborn, instead of using magic had resorted to throwing her meagre weight around.

Maybe she _shouldn't _be allowed ma...

"Mare!" Lily gasped, as she wrapped her friend in an embrace.

Mary burst into tears – loud, embarrassing, girl tears that didn't quite manage to cover Sprout's words.

"It's ok, it's ok." Lily soothed, as Marlene rubbed circles into her back.

"What for the love of Merlin do you think you're doing?" Sprout shrieked.

"Nothing," Mulciber muttered, cowed by his Professor's anger.

"Practising," James said, who, while he would gladly strike up a fight, was opposed to snitching.

Sprout stared from one to the other in disbelief, and he wasn't the only one: most of the class had congregated around them.

"Practising," she repeated. "And I suppose that's why she's in such a state?" She gestured to Mary still on the ground though her tears were thankfully under check.

James didn't look at her – his face was like stone.

"Mulciber was attacking Mary." A voice blurted from the front of the crowd.

Mary, pushing her long dark hair out of her eyes, turned to look at the new voice. It belonged to an average looking boy she only vaguely recognised, wearing Hufflepuff robes and blushing vividly.

From the look on his face, James didn't know who he was, either.

Professor Sprout nodded briskly, "Yes, you told me so. You, you and _you_ will be escorted to the Headmaster's offices immediately." She turned to the Slytherins, all of whom were looking at the Hufflepuff boy with absolute fury on their faces. They deposited their wand in Professor Sprout's outstretched hand, and moved in front of her round the castle – Avery levitated in front of them all.

Professor Sprout gave them a look, "Go inside and stay _quiet._ The rest of you: to your lessons." James, Mulciber and Hunter - a good several metres between the two houses – marched stiffly; James' hand touched Mary once on the shoulder, lightly, reassuringly. She watched him out of sight.

It took about five seconds after she had vanished for the entire Slytherin population to start towards the Hufflepuff – luckily, even thought they didn't know who he was, bravery inspired loyalty to many Gryffindors (and Hufflepuffs were loyal to their own, anyway). Sirius, Remus and Peter joined the throngs that suddenly closed ranks around him, wands already out.

"Go inside." Sirius ordered, waving it threateningly.

The four Slytherins remaining, far outnumbered, slouched indoors, with only vague threats and insults to protect their dignity.

"Are you ok?" Lily whispered, smoothing Mary's hair.

Mary nodded without noticing – she was watching the boy.

"He's called Reginald Cattermole," Lily filled her in, following Mary's line of vision to the boy who was taking everyone's sudden attention very awkwardly. As she said it, Reginald Cattermole's surprisingly blue eyes met Mary's.

She looked away first.

* * *

It was all over the school by the time James left the Headmaster's office – just in time to get to Transfiguration. He endured the whispers in the corridor; the looks (sly and lingering or shy and admiring). He wanted to know if Mary was ok.

And, anyway, he was so angry that he barely noticed.

It was, in the end, James' word (and the Hufflepuff's, and, he supposed, Sprout's sight of Mary on the ground) against theirs. And Mulciber was smarter than his ugly mug would make you think.

_We were just playing around, Headmaster!_ James heard in his head, an echo of minutes before. _We didn't think she'd get upset._

The bastard even had the gall to ask if she was ok.

Still, one of his boils had exploded halfway through his excuse; James felt a twinge (well, fine, more than a twinge) of vindictive pleasure. Take fucking that.

The class had started when he entered, and everyone stared at him more avidly than usual as he swung into the chair Sirius had saved.

"What happened?" Sirius muttered, as McGonagall resumed her talking. James stabbed the nib of his quill through the parchment, and it shattered upon impact with the table below.

"Bastard's getting away with it," he growled, and instantly ripples spread through the class – rumours spreading visibly.

Sirius didn't react other than to breath in deeply nod, and listen to McGonagall with more intensity than required.

Are you ok? He mouthed to Mary – the only member of the lass still watching him.

She nodded, but her face was pale.

The lesson dragged.

Who could blame a girl, especially in those circumstances, for day dreaming?

She had never seen James like that – no longer smiling and laughing and mocking, no teasing at all; he had been all stone, so furious that his eyes changed colour. Protecting her.

She sneaked a glance at him.

He wasn't listening, either – his eyes were on the parchment, on which his quill trailed figures she couldn't see. Maybe he was thinking about it, too.

Mary missed the command that caused everyone else in the class to start talking, shuffling about; absorbed as she was in the detailed analysis of James Potter. And by the time she sat up and took notice Sirius had dragged his chair around the other side of James' desk and they had set up the practical; Hayley hovered over Mary's.

"Mare?" She asked hesitantly.

Mary looked at Hayley – her mouse brown hair pulled into a low knot at her neck; her soft brown eyes; her half-hearted question. She looked over at James, content in his pairing. Adam was with Marlene. Lily was talking to two Ravenclaw girls.

"Why don't you go with Lily?" Mary suggested. She rose to her feet, smoothing her robes over her front.

Her heart beat steadily, drowning out all other noise. On silent, ghostly wings, Mary glided to the other side of the room.

"Can I be partners with you?" She asked, and to herself her voice was thin.

A note about Mary McDonald: she wasn't beautiful. Oh, she was unusually pretty – with her tanned skin, her dark hair and her hooded eyes; but she was too simple to be called beautiful. Nevertheless, she struck and imposing figure to most males - especially those with little experience with the opposite sex.

Reginald Cattermole looked positively terrified.

He stuttered something that could have been a yes – it was hard to tell – and his current partner – a boy she _did_ know, but would never admit to knowing because she was very drunk and would prefer to forget the entire incident – scuttled off sharpish.

Reginald frowned at his work, gripping his wand tightly. He had nice hands, Mary decided.

James Potter had nice hands, too.

"Thank you." Mary said, her voice dipping low. Reginald's chin trembled.

"No, seriously," Mary stretched out her own little hand, taking the pad of his thumb gently, "Thank you so much." This time, Reginald looked at her.

"You're welcome." He replied, so assured that Mary started for a second. She had expected derogatory self-judgements, perhaps an outright denial.

"Who _are_ you?" James Potter asked, dropping onto the desk beside Reginald's. His eyes – hazel, unlike Reginald's – scoured the smaller boy not completely pleasantly.

Reginald blushed, his face vanishing into fearful admiration; his voice to a stutter.

"Reginald Cattermole." Mary told James, as though she had always known. Her eyes, though, stayed on Reginald – the boy was still red, still shy...he couldn't be...

"Well, thank you." James grinned, clapping him on the shoulder.

Reginald went a deeper colour, "It was nothing, really."

He was definitely gay.

Mary smiled, "Perhaps you could buy Reg a present, James - to show your appreciation."

Reginald glanced at her.

Oh yes, Mary thought at him, I know.

* * *

"That was a good thing you did." Lily's voice – and, trust him, he hated that he knew who it was – startled James in his lonely corner.

He looked up at her, "What? You're still talking to me?" He mocked. He could feel Snape watching them – Snape, who she was still seeing; Snape, who was a Death Eater; Snape, who should rot in hell.

"No." Lily snapped, her gentle mood shattered. She marched in the other direction, launching into a rant that Hayley was obviously barely listening to. She sent a smirk in James' direction, and he replied by holding up seven fingers – the scheduled time for their Quidditch practice. Hayley nodded; like she had a choice.

"Why are we still here?" James groaned, tilting back on two legs and burying his face in Sirius' arm. The other boy looked down at him, but said nothing – he had no chance, because, at that very second, the bell trilled.

James looked up, grinning.

He was on his feet in a second, swinging his bag around his lean body and leading the stampede of eager students out of the door.

As he loitered on the other side of the doorway, waiting for his friends, he looked for Mary.

She was talking to Lily (just his luck) and, as he made his way over, she asked, "What do we have next?"

"I have Potions," Lily was saying, "And you have Divination." Of course, Lily would know all her friends timetables. And Lily would manage to smile at Mary in a way that was apologetic and sympathetic as she began to move in the other direction but still refrained from being overbearing. And Lily would bite her lips when Mary glanced away, drawing his attention to them and making his heart pound because she was so _Lily_ and she was too goddam perfect.

Her smile fell from her face as James stepped up to them. His heart flinched involuntarily.

"What do you want Potter?" She near growled.

James ignored her, "I'm going in the Divination direction Mary, can I walk with you?" He knew enough about girls to know that they didn't like people inferring that they couldn't look after themselves – even if they couldn't.

Mary beamed, "That would be lovely James." She linked her small arm through his, and he took the files from her hands. Her picture perfect smile widened, but he missed it because in that split second he dared a glance at Lily, and found her eyes upon his.

He squashed down the part of himself that wanted to analyse that look, and allowed himself to be pulled in the other direction by Mary.

The little girl talked on about something or other, and James ambled along by her side until they reached the corner where James would have to set her go and they both stopped walking. James wasn't glad to be rid of her, but neither was he sorry. Mary MacDonald was one of those girls he could just be with and never really notice. Right now, he needed a girl that he didn't notice.

"Thank you for walking me to class," Mary smiled.

"Actually, class is up those steps." James pointed out, gesturing to the tower and the mile of steps leading to the top. Mary blinked in surprise. Maybe he should have let that one slide.

"So, I'll see you around." James passed her the books, turned on his heel and walked away.

"Bye." She called after him.

* * *

Lily was mad.

She had been mad all day, and she could well go on being mad well into the night.

How fucking dare McNair? And Avery! And Hunter – who she barely even recognised! What even the fuck?

Poor, sweet Mary, who was so small and pretty and dainty; and probably_ couldn't _hurt a fly even if she wanted to!

The memory of her friend on the floor, weeping, made Lily's hands clench angrily, and her footsteps increased in pace – stamping down the marble corridor.

"Potter!" She shouted, her voice whipping through the air to greet the boy turning the corner in front of her.

For a moment, as he recognised her voice and her anger in surprise, his poker face slipped slightly. His eyes lit up, just a little.

"Evans," he replied, his deep voice cool and calm – as opposed to hers (burning and passionate) as it could have been.

They drew to each other, standing closer than she would under any other circumstances.

"What were you doing with Mary?" Lily snapped, jabbing him in the chest with her index finger.

"Walking her to class," James replied without missing a beat.

Rage licked the lining of Lily's stomach, "Keep away from her," she warned.

Again, that little slip of the mask – amusement this time. Damn fucking amusement which was so bloody out of place and what the fuck did he find funny about this?

"I don't follow," he lied to her face.

"You're using her to get to me!" Lily hissed, jabbing again. "You're angry at me and you're using her!"

James rolled his eyes – fuck him, "Don't be stupid Evans."

"You're going to break her heart!" Lily insisted. "And you don't even care. She's just some skirt to chase; some way of getting back at me."

"Not everything's about you, Evans!" James told her, biting onto the temptation of releasing his feelings that she so temptingly offered up.

Lily scoffed, "Please. Why else would you help her?"

James seemed to be finding it hard to talk – his mouth opened and closed in mute fury several times; his hazel eyes alternately narrowed and grew very wide.

"Why _wouldn't _I help her?" He asked finally, but almost immediately changed his question.

"Can I not do _anything _right with you, Evans?" His voice sounded funny. Like he'd been trying for blasé, but missed the target – like he had given up.

And she couldn't answer – because he was walking away already, and the anger had suddenly left her; because she didn't have anything to say.

The sad truth of the matter was that no, James would never be able to do anything right by her. All his wrongs were standing in the way. With James Potter, there could be no new beginning.

* * *

**Hey! So, this is chapter 3, hope you enjoyed it - it's a dark one, for sure, but I think (I hope) this is about as dark as it gets for a while (crossed fingers because I hate writing angst).**

**Review please, because a)it's encouraging to any writer and b)feedback is really helpful. Seriously, anything (positive or negative) stick it in a review! Pretty please..  
**


	4. It Has To Start Somewhere

When Lily woke up, she was still tired. Groggily, she slipped out of bed, glanced longingly at the door to the bathroom – from which the sounds of a shower running could be heard – but couldn't be bothered to wait for it. She slipped into her robes, slowly tied her tie.

Why did she even have to get up?

It wasn't like this _one day_ would help at all with her studies – she was at or close to the top of nearly all her classes and she avoided skiving class enough that the teachers would allow her this one off. She could just sink back onto her pillow, wrap her duvet around herself and work off some of this overwhelming exhaustion. It would be so easy...

"Lily?" A voice called her back from the door to the dormitory. It took a moment, but Lily turned her head to face Marlene.

"Are you ok?" The blonde girl asked, her thick brows creasing in concern as she hovered in the doorway.

"Fine," Lily replied blandly, smiling slightly, "Just tired, you know?"

Relieved, Marlene broke into a grin, "Tell me about it!" She paused once more before continuing, "Are you coming to breakfast now?"

Lily shook her head, "I think I'll wait a bit."

Marlene nodded – some of her hair escaped it's bobble, spinning free around her face, "Well, I'm meeting Will, so..."

"I'll see you down there." Lily promised, releasing her friend from any lingering obligation to wait.

Satisfied, humming a little, Marlene shut the door behind her.

Lily flopped backwards onto her mattress. Now she _had _to get up – Marlene had a way, with her simple goodness, of guilting people into behaving as perfectly as possible. Damn her.

But Mary was still in the shower, and maybe Lily could wait for...

Alarmed, Lily sat up sharply. Mary was still in the shower?

She glanced at her bedside clock – a traditional, red, circular contraption that she had charmed into working. It was far, far too late for Mary to be in the shower. She would have to get dressed, have breakfast, do her hair and make-up, prepare her school things; all in the next half an hour, if she didn't want to be late – and Mary, unlike Lily, could _not_ afford to skip lessons.

"Mare?" She called, rapping her knuckles on the door.

The shower hummed on – the only noise that replied.

Frightened now, Lily pushed on the door, opening it a crack.

Steam poured out and with it, barely discernible under the roar of the water, was the soft, heartbreaking sound of Mary crying.

"Mare!" Lily gasped, entering fully.

Her tall brunette friend had her thin arms hooked around her legs – hugging tightly into her chest; her cheek pressed desperately into her knee; her eyes were wide open and staring, and the tears that leaked from them were washed quickly away by the shower – turned so hot that it raised red welts for a moment when it touched her.

Lily reached in and flicked the switch; the noise died down.

She didn't spare a thought for her robes, her hair or her make-up. She just crouched down on the sodden floor beside her friend and wrapped her arms around her.

Her own tears threatened to escape, but she contained them violently – she had no right to be upset. She had to be strong.

Lily wished she could say something that would help Mary – something inspirational and comforting and utterly brilliant that would wipe away all her pain and make her forget. But Lily was no good with words. She could write thousand word essays with no problem, she could sustain and interesting conversation with ease, but words that actually counted for something? Words that had the power to change things? Never.

So she did – and she felt, despite herself, a lick of rage for being pushed to this – the only thing she knew would help. "Do you want me to get Kyle?"

Mary froze. She turned her terrified eyes to Lily's. She swallowed uncomfortably. And she nodded – a tiny, miniscule vibration of her head.

Stiffly, Lily struggled to her feet.

She left Mary on the floor of the shower – she performed a quick drying charm first, because there was no way Mary was getting pneumonia on her watch – and she hurried out to find the seventh year Ravenclaw.

She knew where he would be: at the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall, surrounded by people laughing, the focus of attention.

But she didn't care.

She didn't care that she looked a mess, that she sounded crazy – Mary needed Kyle, and she would get him for her.

"Kyle!" She barked when she was a few metres away.

The boy's eyebrows shot up in surprise when he turned and saw her – silence fell amongst his friends.

"Lily?" She heard the surprise in his voice: Lily hadn't spoken to Kyle since the end of the previous year, when she had shouted at him for breaking Mary's heart and told him never to speak to any of them again. Yet here she was, covered in water and desperate, calling his name.

"Come with me." Lily ordered, turning on her heel and marching away again. She heard the confused tittering behind her – she didn't care – but she carried on. Kyle would follow, she knew. He might be a complete prat, but he wasn't _stupid_.

He caught up with her just outside the doors.

"Lily!" Catching her arm, he whirled her to face him, "What's going on?"

"Did you hear about Mary?" Lily demanded.

Something darkened in Kyle's eyes, "Yes," he admitted.

Lily wanted to scream. Kyle and Mary went out for four _years_, and just because they broke up he didn't go and see her when she was _attacked_? When she was nearly...

Lily crushed that thought – it made her too mad, too frightened.

"She needs you." Lily summarised the situation as they walked quickly, and as she did so disbelief then horror, regret then fury, crossed his face.

She told the Fat Lady the password – not even thinking about the fact that she had also given it to the Ravenclaw – and they both crossed the deserted Common Room to the stairs.

Lily only climbed a couple before he called her back.

"What?" Lily asked. Kyle looked up at her from the foot of the stairs. He wasn't going to _leave_ Mary there, was he?

"Lily, I want to help..." he trailed off momentarily – cowed slightly by the dawning look of hatred on her face – "but she's in the _girl's bathroom_. I can't get in." He reminded her, tapping the bottom stair with his foot to emphasise his point.

Lily didn't understand for a second; she didn't want to.

Kyle _couldn't get in_. Kyle _couldn't help Mary._ There was nothing anyone could do, and Mary would go on crying to herself, and no one could fix it.

"Fuck," a new voice grunted, and hurried steps flung down the parallel staircase as three figures tumbled from the bottom.

Sirius was calm, sauntering, laughing slightly. He watched Peter and James in amusement as they danced around the workspace in the Common Room, grabbing what books they needed – Lily doubted that they knew those were _their _books – and trying to do their ties at the same time.

"Fuck," Peter swore again, as he tripped over a chair leg and fell to the floor with a thump.

Both other boys laughed, now.

Then Sirius caught sight of them.

"Kyle!" He greeted with a chuckle, "sneaking up to the girls dorms, are you?" He winked. "Don't be late for class!"

One huge, grateful wave swept over Lily – and apparently Kyle, too, judging by his expression.

"Thank _Merlin_," she ground out, lunging over and grabbing Sirius by the wrist, "How do you get boys up the stairs?"

Sirius looked even more gleeful, "Desperate are we, Evans? I mean," he glanced at Kyle, "he's not really my type, but -"

"Shut up." Lily snapped, "Just tell us."

Restraining himself – and that was less to do with, Lily was certain, her words than the look Potter was sending them as he stood by the door.

"I can't help you." Sirius said simply, shooting Kyle another look. He turned to go.

"Black!" Lily near shouted, "I'm not shagging Kyle! Just _tell me_!"

The portrait door thumped closed as Potter left, and Sirius sent it – or maybe his disappeared best friend, it was hard to tell – a speculatory look.

"Jump onto the first step, then jump onto the third." He said quickly, hurrying towards the exit.

Kyle was already jumping and, although he turned the bend without disaster, she didn't follow. She had done all she could.

The portrait door burst open, and Lily turned towards it – half expecting Black or Potter to be back and accusing her of something or other.

Hayley stood – one hand on her slender hip, entirely not out of breath though she had apparently been running (her shoes were in her hands rather than on her feet) – in the doorway, "Have you heard?" She asked.

"About Mary?" Lily asked, confused – how had _Hayley _heard?

Now it was Hayley's turn to look bewildered, "What's happened to Mary?"

Lily and Hayley were hardly friends. They had shared a dormitory for years, but the ice between them never cracked and they were left with an awkward intimacy between them; Marlene had the same situation. But with Mary, however: ever since Mary and Kyle had broken up, Hayley and Mary had become closer. The trio of Mary, Marlene and Lily had become Mary and Hayley, and Marlene and Lily. They were still _friends_ with Mary; they were still _close_, but Mary now had Hayley, too, to tell her deepest secrets to.

If Hayley were to find out that Mary was upstairs crying, Kyle or no Kyle, Hayley would go up there.

"Nothing." Lily lied, crossing her fingers in the muggle superstition that meant that she would be absolved from blame for it. "What' happened?" She asked, to distract Hayley.

She could see that Hayley didn't quite trust her, but she said anyway, "That boy that told on the Slytherins? He's been put in the Hospital Wing somehow."

Lily had a brief flash of Reginald Cattermole's small, frightened face.

"I wonder who by..." she muttered sarcastically, and Hayley raised an agreeing eyebrow.

Further conversation was cut off by the bell, and without a word both girls headed out of the door.

"I'll see you later." Lily told Hayley, who didn't reply as she moved in the opposite direction.

Lily didn't care – she had other thoughts on her mind.

As though Karma was rewarding her for fetching Kyle, the Potion they were to be making was perfect for Lily's plan.

The first part was busy enough, yet simple enough, that while everyone had to keep their eyes on what they were doing conversation was able to flow – indeed, several times Slughorn had to call to them all to be quiet as he marked his third years' essays.

Lily worked fast, getting it all done in record time, and, as she dropped the shredded wolfsbane roots into the simmering mixture – turning it a shimmering green – she glanced around. No one was watching her – and she had a three minute time slot to let her potion simmer before she had to return.

"Severus," she hissed, sneaking over to his side in the darkest corner.

His thin shoulders stiffened as he scribbled something illegible in his book. His potion, too, was the shimmering green – she had known it would be.

"What do you want?" He grumbled, but he didn't sound put out by the sound of her voice, which was a good start.

"Did you hear about Reginald Cattermole?" She asked, straight to the point.

Derision entered his smooth black gaze, "Yes." He didn't elaborate.

"Do you know who did it?"

A soft, harsh chuckle burst from his thin mouth, "So you'll talk to me when you want something?"

Lily swallowed her shame, she knew he was right.

"What happened to "I can't do this anymore"," he mimicked her cruelly.

"Was it Mulciber?" Lily asked, ignoring the sting of his words.

Snape's face twisted up in anger, and he turned away from her.

"Was it Avery?" She dropped her voice – Avery took this class, too; but it was ok, he hadn't noticed them.

"It wasn't either of them." Snape snapped, "And I have to work, so go away." His words rung with finality.

And Lily couldn't help it: she believed him.

* * *

"Hello, Lily," Will Selwyn greeted cheerfully, as he sat to her right. He smiled at her pleasantly, helping himself to a generous serving of mashed potato.

Lily pulled a face – she detested pureed food.

"Hi, Will," she muttered.

Will took a second, sympathetic glance, "Long day?"

Lily groaned, "Long _year_."

Chuckling, "Lily, the year began a month ago," he reminded her.

_So?_

"How's Mary doing?" Will asked.

Lily had told her two dorm mates straight after lessons had finished the situation – Hayley, predictably, had been furious, and stormed straight off to comfort Mary; Marlene, predictably, went to talk to Will.

"I don't know," Lily said honestly.

Will hummed a sentiment, forgetting, as he often did, that people who weren't Marlene couldn't understand when he spoke in that way.

Lily was too weary to reply.

"Did you hear about Potter?" Will asked absently as he sliced his steak neatly.

"What about him?" Lily sighed. She didn't want to think about Potter right now.

"Detention," Will told her, popping the meat into his mouth.

Lily thought nothing of it – Potter was always getting detentions for something or other. He'd probably blown up a stack of homework, or charmed something the wrong colour, or been out of bounds or sworn in front of a teacher, or -

"He hexed Snape." Will continued, when she failed to respond.

Lily snapped to attention, "_What?_"

Will stared at her, not understanding why she was so involved in the conversation for a moment; like the sun peeking through the clouds he realised his mistake.

"Merlin, Lily, I forgot!" He apologised, putting down his cutlery and facing her in earnest.

"What for?" Lily demanded, rising to her feet.

Who did Potter think he was, anyway?

She was going to kill him.

"Hexing Cattermole." Will muttered, cowed by her anger.

It might have been the only thing he could have said to stop her.

Snape had hexed Reginald.

Snape had stood there and _lied_ to her about it.

Snape had hexed Reginald...for standing up for Mary. Snape had hexed Reginald.

"I'm not so hungry," Lily whispered, and she darted away from Will's gentle, probing brown eyes. She couldn't stand his sympathy, his pity, his compassion.

How could she be so _stupid_?

But Lily didn't cry, this time. She didn't sob, she didn't rum through the corridors panicking; too many times had that happened already.

She just needed to get away for a little while, to come to terms with this without an entourage.

And she had lied to Will – she suddenly found herself ravenous.

Making her way to the kitchens, Lily fixed her thoughts of something other than Snape. She didn't want to think about Mary, or Hayley, or Kyle, or Potter; not Avery, Mulciber or Hunter. She didn't want to think about Petunia (as she found herself doing more and more often as her sister's wedding drew closer).

What would she write for Charms homework?

There – that was a safe topic. She could put something about the extra concentration needed to deliver the colour changing spell non-verbally, but she had put something similar in her last essay. Maybe she could come at it from a different angle – focus on the origins of the spell?

"Are you going to open that or stand there and stare at it?"

"Are you going to be rude of let me finish?" Lily snapped back.

She felt rather than saw Potter's smirk behind her, and she took her time raising her hand to tickle the pear that marked the entrance to the kitchens.

He followed her down the narrow staircase, but said nothing until they both had gathered their food - he took about double hers in half the time, and the house-elves all referred to him by name Lily noticed – and sat down.

"What are you doing here?" He queried at last.

Lily found herself not wanting to argue, "I couldn't stand to be around people." She told him truthfully.

Potter snorted, "Sociable." He commented.

Lily glared at him, stabbing some beans with more vehemence than needed.

"You?" She asked back in a hard voice

"Detention." He replied, his glasses reflecting his food as he stared at his plate rather than her.

Yes, that was right. Detention. For hexing Snape. For hexing Snape, for hexing Reginald, for telling on the Slytherins, for hurting Mary; for being a Muggleborn.

"When does it stop?" Lily muttered to herself, leaning against the wall.

The silence dragged on, tiredness dragged Lily's eyelids down and her breathing spaced out. When would it ever stop?

"It doesn't." Potter's voice brought her out of her near sleep, and she slammed back to alertness. He smirked at her guilty expression, then responded to her confused one.

"You meant the cycle, right?" He guessed, "I hex Snape, for hexing Cattermole, etcetera?" Lily nodded.

"It doesn't stop." He told her. For the first time, ever, Lily saw James Potter look sad.

"It has to," Lily insisted.

"There's a war going on," Potter reminded her pointedly.

Lily scoffed, "You can't compare Voldemort to some school bullies."

"It has to start somewhere." James countered.

The teenagers watched one another warily.

"Get some rest, Evans." Potter told her, getting to his feet, "You look tired."

* * *

**Seriously, can I have some reviews? Just one quick line - what you like, what you didn't like, what I should do more/less of, etc - that's all I'm asking. Cheers ~Meals**


	5. Love Isn't Enough

_Dear Marlene_, the letter began innocently;  
_Your father and I are getting a divorce_, it continued.

Marlene could nearly laugh at her mother's insensitivity, through her oncoming tears. It was just _so_ _mum_ – she would be so wrapped up in her own feelings she would forget that Marlene, too, was losing something. She had known it was coming, of course. Maybe it was because she had gained distance – and with it perspective – but when she returned from her first year at Hogwarts she had been able to see that her parents weren't happy together. They just didn't fit; she wanted to curl up on Saturday nights and gossip about their friends, and he wanted to go on hikes and holidays, see sights. And she had watched them, year after year, grow more and more miserable.

And this was her mother's third husband.

Marlene's third father.

She wished she was with her: she could picture her mother's brown eyes filled with tears, her pouting lips, her insistences that she was _fine_, but she would cry herself to sleep at night.

Who would hug her if Marlene wasn't there?

She liked Carl, too. He had been her mother's longest marriage – Niall had managed barely a year, when she was little, and Simon after that had lasted three before he, too, walked out on them. And he had been nice – good looking with his cow eyes and cheeky smile, a lot of fun to be around.

Her mother just seemed to fall for the wrong people.

Marlene moaned into her hands, not caring that she was make-up-less and snivelling in the Great Hall at midday on a Sunday, still in her pyjamas and grumbling to herself. There were worse things in life than being a loser.

She could imagine what would come next – there would be a mourning period of a couple of months, and then her mother would fall for someone else wildly unsuitable, and the whole cycle would continue.

"Hey Marls," Will sat beside her, helping himself to the toast that he knew she wouldn't eat and pecking her on the sliver of cheek that wasn't covered by her fingers.

He didn't ask what was wrong – instead, he picked up the letter from the table and began to read.

The toast froze on the way to his mouth.

Marlene looked at him.

He looked sad.

"Hey, it's fine," Marlene promised, her hand finding his as his eyes stared at the words.

"No, it isn't." Will sighed, but his fingers squeezed hers reassuringly as he silently promised that one day it would be.

Marlene took a long, careful look at her boyfriend.

She could see why people thought that he wasn't handsome – his face was too angular, his body too lean, his eyes too big. He was like a boy made man too soon, and not quite sure how to fit into his own skin.

But he was _so handsome_.

"I love you," Marlene whispered, meaning it with every cell in her body and needing him to know it.

He understood: "I love you, too." And he kissed her sweetly, not caring that her teeth weren't brushed and that she was a little overweight.

She was so beautiful.

* * *

"Lily?" Snape called out, jogging down the corridor to catch up with her.

She waited for him expectantly, and he smiled at her for the first genuine time in months – probably years.

"Yes?" She asked, when he wasn't forthcoming about what he wanted from her.

She was late for meeting Mary.

"Do you want to do something this Hogsmeade weekend?" Snape asked her, his eyes dark and sheltered on hers.

Lily could have said yes, easily. She _did_ want to do something next Hogsmeade weekend – and she didn't object to doing it with him, exactly.

But, for the first time, she wasn't glad he had asked to spend time with her rather than his newer, more volatile and dangerous friends.

She didn't want to avoid him, she didn't not want to go with him.

But, now and forever, he wasn't her priority.

"No, not really," she answered honestly.

It took a moment for him to reconcile her tone with her answer, but she saw the exact moment he did. It was alive.

"Why are you doing this?" He asked, bitingly. His eyes were furious, his body bristling with energy; she had never been less scared of him.

(Well, maybe when they were little, lying in the grass side by side and sharing secrets that only they could tell one another because there would never be anyone who understood them like they themselves did, and it felt so good to share with someone who would never betray them ever because they were best friends and nothing could change that, amen.)

If he didn't know, Lily couldn't explain it, but she tried anyway because a total stranger deserved that, "You just don't interest me anymore."

It was a lie, but she believed it.

"It's because of Potter." He snapped.

"No, it's not." She'd been expecting it, and, slightly bored, she plucked a hair from the front of her jumper and dropped it to the ground absently.

She didn't expect his hand to smack her against the wall, and she didn't really understand what was happening until the sting of both impacts wore off and she gasped up into his snarling and furious face.

"Severus!" She gasped, pain shooting across her features as she felt something in her ankle snap as she fell over it.

Eyes smarting, Lily folded herself to the marble flooring, ignoring the Slytherin looming threateningly over her, and cradled her broken ankle in both hands.

Her tears overflowed, but she cried silently rather than give him any more satisfaction.

She would definitely not be there to greet Mary.

She could heal herself briefly – there was something she'd read about splinting bones, wasn't there? – and that would last until she hobbled down to the hospital wing. She'd tell Madame Pomfrey that she fell down the stairs.

Because if she told she would probably end up getting hexed.

Like Reginald.

"Lily?" Snape asked, and Lily started – damn it, that hurt! – because she'd honestly forgotten he was there.

"Sorry, what?" She asked automatically, sure that she had missed something and not realising that she was actually apologising to him for inattention when he had just _broken her ankle_.

Snape looked more unnerved by it then she did.

"Are you ok?" He asked hesitantly, glancing around them like he was afraid of being seen with a crazy lady.

But now that Lily had remembered – had actually put what had just happened into words (albeit mental ones) she was angry. Heart pumping, fist clenching, broken-ankle-stops-hurting-because-of-the-hormones angry.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" She shouted, still on the floor but hobbling to her feet so that she could take a swing at him.

"I didn't mean to..." Snape started, but trailed off when they simultaneously thought of their recent conversation.

"You just can't help yourself, can you?" Lily hissed, taking a stumbling step towards him (he reached out to steady her, but withdrew when she slashed at his hand with her fist).

"What?" He backed away, fingers twitching towards where she knew he kept his wand.

"You just _have to hurt somebody_!" Lily shouted, her palm rushing towards him though he was too far away for her to reach.

"Lily, calm down..." Snape urged, genuinely worried now.

"Why the fuck should I?" Lily screamed. "Because you're scared? Because you're worried? Because the filthy little mud-blood might cause you damage? Or is it because you're disgusting 'friends' aren't around to protect you? Not so tough when they don't know what you're doing, are you?" She laughed mockingly, "But actually I guess it doesn't take much toughness to hex Reginald Cattermole, does it? He's what, a head smaller than you and half as clever? I bet you went for the from-behind approach, too, didn't you?"

The look on his face told her all she needed to know, and Lily turned around, scoffing to hide that it still upset her.

A thought occurred – not a 'high-road', respectable, 'person-I-aspire-to-be' type thought; but maybe it would hurt him a fraction of how he'd hurt her, "You know, even the Marauder's let you know when they're going to attack you."

She saw the hate on his face, and then she walked away, not bothering to hold in her tears.

* * *

"Lily?" Marlene asked, as she bumped into her friend leaving the hospital wing twenty minutes later. She was still in her pyjamas, and she still had no make-up on (Mary would be horrified) but she wasn't upset anymore as her and her boyfriend approached the tired looking red head.

"I tripped down the stairs," Lily asked, warding away the inevitable questioning. Her tone was such that Marlene didn't even ask.

"Well," she replied instead, sensing that the ginger needed to ignore the problem for some time, "I'm heading to the library to do my Charms essay, if you want to come?"

She hadn't actually planned on going to the library – Will would only be a few minutes getting a headache removal potion – but Lily looked like she could use some comfort and the Gryffindor girls looked out for one another.

Nodding, Lily accepted the turn of events, and the two of them waved to Will – slightly confused, but adorably understanding – and took the second corridor on the left towards their destination.

And something peculiar happened: Marlene forgot that she was meant to be offering comfort to Lily.

"My mum's divorcing Carl," she admitted, staring at the floor and blushing although she didn't feel any emotions that could cause it.

Lily looked at her, her own problems promptly discarded, "Are you ok?"

Marlene nodded assuredly, "I just wish I was there, you know?"

Lily nodded sympathetically, her fingers brushing Marlene's arm.

"But I don't want to bore you with that," Marlene chuckled to discard it, "God knows you've heard enough of my mum's relationship dramas."

...

"I just don't understand _why_..." Marlene said for the third time, threading grass through her fingers. "It's not like there's anything wrong with my mum. _Or_ Carl."

Lily shrugged, completely at a loss, "I don't know, Marls. My parents are hardly love's young dream."

She thought briefly of their normal, love-less relationship, and dismissed it before it could hurt her or distract her from her conversation with Marlene.

"Sorry," Marlene muttered, knowing what Lily was thinking about.

Lily shrugged it off, as always.

"But they _love_ each other," Marlene pointed out, "I know they do! They love each other so much, and they're miserable every time they break up."

It wasn't the first time this had happened between Satie and Carl, it was just the first time it had been official.

Her friend didn't reply with a quick reassurance: "they'll be back together in no time", "I'm sure it's just a glitch", "they're meant to be together".

"Sometimes love isn't enough," Lily said quietly, staring out over the still lake. "Sometimes you can love someone, but you're not right for them. And you have to give up in the end because it's not fair on anyone to expect someone to change for you. And it can be hard to see that, but you have to walk away because if you have nothing between you then how will you ever be happy? It's not enough to have something in common for the present, the long run has to be there too."

Marlene looked at Lily - a pause of understanding between the two teenagers where Lily was able to admit and Marlene could truly hear.

"Snape?" Marlene asked.

Lily didn't bother to answer.

And then it was Marlene's turn – because although she had told Lily about her mother, she hadn't bared her soul the way Lily had, and it was only fair.

She opened her mouth, ready to say something shocking and frightening and totally unexpected. She was going to tell Lily that she wanted to leave. That she didn't want to stay and ride the wave of Death Eaters swelling under their world, that she didn't care whether it was cowardly or horrible or immoral – as long as she could be with Adam forever it didn't matter.

_I'm never going to fight,_ she was going to say.

"I have to meet Mary," Lily said suddenly, getting to her feet hastily and rushing away, leaving Marlene and her nearly-said words behind.

Too late to un-think.

* * *

"Have you seen this?" Sirius appeared, agitated, by Remus' arm opposite James, flinging the newspaper down onto the low coffee table that they – and the rest of Gryffindor House – considered the Marauders'.

'**Four More Deaths'** The headline screamed up at them.

James pulled a face, flicking it over so that the face of little Eva Littlewood wouldn't stare up at him balefully, only three years old.

"It's getting worse," Sirius mumbled, dropping onto the open seat beside James on the sofa and flinging his legs over the top of his mate's.

"I don't know," Peter said quietly, "I still think it's just a phase."

Sirius and James both sent him identical looks – 'don't be so stupid' looks – but Remus, sighing as he acknowledged that the Charms would not be done on time after all, looked like he paid the idea some consideration.

"It did rise awfully fast," he pointed out, "so it could burn out."

Peter sent them a triumphant glance, which fell away when he registered the sombre expressions.

"It didn't _rise fast_," Sirius growled, glaring at Remus like the whole problem was his fault in some way. "These ideas have been around for years!"

Peter blinked, "How do you figure that?"

James rolled his eyes, "Merlin, Pete, Salazar Slytherin left because he didn't want muggle-borns in school and that was what?"

"A thousand years ago," Sirius chipped in, faithfully.

Peter mumbled something that might have been acceptance or might have been an apology, but it was drowned by Remus talking again: "But the violence might just be a phase, mightn't it?"

Peter jumped in, "Yeah, the Slytherins are only a quarter of the wizards."

"Fine," James conceded reluctantly, "that's true -"

"But it's a quarter that is doing a lot of damage." Sirius leapt in. "They're _dangerous_."

The four of them chewed over the thought for a second, each with all their emotions carried.

"What are you looking so dreary about?" Will asked, all dorkish blunder.

His sweet face looked around innocently, registering the seriousness of his interruption and all at once awkward and ashamed.

"Sorry, guys," he muttered, turning away again as pink coloured his freckled cheeks.

"Stay, Selwyn," Sirius sighed, waving a hand imperiously at the space that Remus' feet occupied.

Will sat, instantly and with the figure of a cornered animal forced to obedience. Sirius could have said 'die' and Will would have faked it, at least.

Remus sent Sirius a confused look: Sirius didn't like discussing the war in front of them, and now _Will_ was allowed to hear his innermost fears about what was coming? Remus liked him and all, but really?

"He's a Selwyn," Sirius replied, as though that explained everything.

Will looked more awkward than ever, his lips pulled into his mouth as he grimaced at Sirius' lack of tact about his father's side of his family.

"What's this about?" He wanted to know, unaware that half of the rest of the party didn't know.

"What do you think about Voldemort?" James asked, with less tact than Sirius even.

Will flinched.

"What?" He stammered, eyes searching for an exit.

Peter rolled his eyes, "It's a simple question, what do you think about what's going on?"

Will sent Peter a look – the boy simply didn't radiate the intimidation the others could, "I think it's shit, of course."

Sirius held out a hand to Will, not for his sake but as a sweeping gesture of someone proving his point, though none of the rest of them could see the link.

"Peter thinks it's a phase," James told Will, curling his legs under himself – Remus' half done essay fell under the floor, but Remus didn't notice so James didn't feel the need to comment on it.

Will looked confused, "The culmination of generations of wizards' views on blood purity and right to rule is a phase?"

Peter swallowed, "Well when you put it that way..."

But Will had realised that here was an opportunity to get in with them – not completely, he didn't want to be a Marauder or anything, but it would be nice to be a good-mate – and he was damned if he wasn't going to take it: "No! Not 'when you put it that way'! It _is _that way!"

James nodded emphatically, and the power of their attention made Will sit straighter, his voice rising a couple of notes as he stressed his point, "It's not just a couple of psychos killing some muggle-borns, as the papers put it. It's not just a portion of wizarding culture gone wrong. This is a deep buried view, they honestly believe they're better than others, and they're going to teach their children that, and it will just continue. It _has_ just continued, and now here we are and their children are _threatening everything_."

James watched Will rant and, despite himself, he heard Lily: "You can't compare Voldemort to some school bullies".

They were the same, and he wasn't the only one who knew it.

"These bastards threaten my life with Marlene. They threaten me for loving her and they threaten her for _existing_." He slammed one hand down onto the armrest, completely unaware that the entire room had gone silent and was listening to him.

"And I, for one, am not going to sit back and let them kill people without fighting. Because Merlin's-sake those people were loved, too! And I would hate anyone who sat back and let Marls die!"

He got to his feet, looking around at everyone with an expression on his face that spoke thunderously. First years stared up at him in awe, seventh years listened thoughtfully and James and Sirius had identical admiring half-smiles on their faces; Will didn't see any of it – Marlene was behind his eyes, and with her in his heart he finished for all to hear.

"I'm going to fight those sons-of-bitches, and no one is going to stop me."

For all to hear, including Marlene, as she entered quietly.

The cheering that followed his triumphant finish – the swell of people enveloping and the calls and whistles of people begging his attention (Sirius, standing on a table and demanding three cheers that were dutifully and energetically carried out as they hoisted Will onto their shoulders) – drowned out the sound of Marlene's racing heart for a second.

In that second, she was proud of Will – for making an apparently rousing speech, for standing up for his beliefs.

And then what he said rushed into her head.

_I'm going to fight...no one's going to stop me_

His confidence knocked the wind out of her.

_I'm never going to fight_

Her own assured conviction.

_I'm going to fight._

_I'm never going to fight._

Marlene wanted to hide, to protect herself and Will so they could be together.

Will didn't.

_The long run has to be there, too._ Lily's words. Lily's heartfelt, wise words that she had gained from experience.

_Sometimes love isn't enough_.

_I'm never going to fight._

_I'm going to fight._

_No one can stop me._

Marlene felt like she was going to be sick as she pushed her way through the crowd of people baying to talk to her boyfriend, elbowing some first years out of the way as she made her escape through the portrait hole, a sob building low in her chest as the cooler corridor air burned her heart.

_No one can stop me._

* * *

_**So here's Chapter 5 - Love Isn't Enough, hope you enjoyed it**  
_

_**Reviews -any kind - are much appreciated, though if you have a problem I'd prefer it if you specified why so that I can try to sort it for next time.  
**_

_**~Meli  
**_


	6. A Happy New Year

**Hiyas, well here's chapter 6, hope you enjoy! If the name Adam pops up at any point that's actually Will, it's just Adam is my real ship with Marlene (but using him would be outright plagerism to TLAT and I feel guilty), so ignore it or send me a message so I can change it, thankyou!**

* * *

The weeks after Will's declaration mimicked his new mood: bright and fresh, sunny. When Will smiled it seemed that the world smiled, and the students and teachers alike played along – barely any detentions were given, fighting ceased in the corridors, even the Death Eaters went on temporary hiatus.

Marlene tried her hardest.

She woke up in the mornings and wore flattering clothes, she didn't diet, she laughed at all the right jokes and smiled all the time. She waited until everyone else was asleep to cry.

It wasn't Will's fault – she knew that. She knew that she still loved him, and he loved her and that was part of what was going on. He wanted the world she lived in to be a better place, and she did for him, too. But for some reason she couldn't _stop crying_.

That morning, as she carefully selected her shirt, she knew that day was going to go badly. Firstly, and most importantly, no one would be asleep early tonight. Secondly, she was going to have to be cheerful the whole day long.

She hated James Potter's birthday.

"Marlene?" A voice called sweetly, raising her from her reverie.

"I'm coming, Lily," Marlene replied, hanging her smile from her lips and turning with a flourish. "How do I look?"

* * *

"Mate, trust me, I'm not throwing a party!" Sirius giggled to James, "This is much cooler than that!" He glanced up from the slab of silver and glass that he was talking into, checking the corridor – if it could be called that – shimmering with gold light from the torches.

"It better be," James teased back, his disjointed voice echoing off the crumbling walls, "given how shit your present was!"

Sirius looked back to his best friend's face, "Oi!"

Reaching the sloping incline that lead up to the exit, he rejigged the package under his arm in an attempt to locate a folded slip of paper somewhere in one of his pockets.

"Dammit," he grunted, nearly dropping the bundle and, as he straightened up from catching it, tripping slightly over a tree root sticking from the rough dirt floor.

James was laughing at him, "Fuck off." He slipped the mirror into his jeans' pocket. Teach the arrogant bugger a lesson.

He might have heard James swearing at him as the screen went blank, but he doubted it because James was much more the type to laugh things off, especially on his birthday.

Sirius reached the door quickly after that: focusing on the uneven paving and groping his way along when the light ran out rather than reach for his wand – he knew the tunnel well, after all.

When his fingers hit the solid stone that signalled the end of the passage, Sirius tucked his booty under his arm tighter and pulled out his wand and the map.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he whispered, tapping where he assumed the centre must be in the pitch dark. "Lumos," he muttered a second later, putting his gleaming wand between his teeth and holding the parchment close to his teeth to check that the coast was clear.

Filch was near the dungeons, McGonagall was in her office and Snape was by the forest. Skulking, no doubt; he tended to do that.

In fact, the pathway he intended to take was entirely free of all human life forms, and Sirius was not particularly upset by the track his favourite house elf happened to be taking, as more often than not she carried food on her. Just because dinner was only an hour ago didn't mean Sirius couldn't be hungry; he was a growing boy.

Sirius glided along the corridors that only he and James knew silently, smiling a little at the thought of how _easy_ life had become. Really, he wouldn't say no to being caught in the act every now and –

"What are you doing, Black?" Lily Evans' voice traipsed over him from behind.

Sirius froze – hand halfway to his still glowing wand and quelling the urge to jinx her for startling him.

"Evans, oh sweet one, what can you mean?" He trilled in return, twisting around to flash her his famous grin.

She did not fall at his feet, simper, blush or giggle. She did not behave like a girl. She did not look impressed.

Sirius was impressed.

"What's with the parcel?" She asked instead, crossing her arms maddeningly.

Sirius took a moment to observe his adversary. Here was one girl he had never really cracked – unlike most, she didn't fancy him; unlike most, she didn't hide that she was clever; unlike most, she didn't try to be beautiful. She had a sense of humour, but also a moral code; she didn't care what people thought of her; she stuck by her friends. Lily Evans was a bit of a mystery: to be honest, if James hadn't been so head over heels in love with her Sirius might have fancied her.

But now she was just an annoying hindrance.

"Marijuana." He told her, straight up.

She didn't blink, "Liar."

Sirius cracked a smile, "But does the fact that it's fire whiskey bother you less now?"

Lily rolled her eyes, "Really, Black. Has that ever worked on anyone?"

Sirius thought back quickly – or at least pretended to, because really he already knew what he would reply – "No, they're generally just bowled over by my stunning good looks." He said seriously.

She quirked a near invisible eyebrow, "Does _that_ ever work on anyone?"

"You tell me," Sirius fired back, genuinely irritated now. "Look, Evans, are you going to take it or are you going to get out of my way?" He snapped, tossing his hair out of his eyes moodily and, though he would never admit it, pouting slightly. He did that sometimes.

He knew from the expression on her face that she had clocked the involuntary movement of his lower lip, and also that she was in now way going to let him pass free. Merlin's-sake, he'd seen less strict faces on Professor McGonagall

"It's Potter's birthday today, isn't it?" She asked though, surprising him.

He blinked at her long and slow to hide his confusion - an effect that was somehow ruined by the sudden blurting of, "What?"

Lily marched past him – he followed her movement with a twisting of his head but made no other actions after her.

At the end of the corridor she looked back, "It's Potter's birthday, and if I stop you you'll just go back and get more. So, just don't give any to anyone in younger years, okay?"

What?

Like, what?

Sirius stood still for another minute afterwards, trying to process that Lily Evans – Lily _freaking_ Evans! – was actually condoning the use of alcohol by underage students. Well, maybe condoning was the wrong word (more like not protesting) and she may have specifically said not to underage wizards (Sirius still found it hilarious that James was the youngest Gryffindor 6th year – he himself had been an adult legally for months!) but she knew as well as anyone that if you gave a Marauder and inch they took a mile. Shit, she'd virtually _asked _him to spike the punch!

Excellent.

The rest of the brief trip passed without even – and really, Sirius didn't think he could take much more drama! – and when he finally pushed open the common room door he saw that the lighting was already dimmed, music was already blasting from the corner and several couples were already making out on the makeshift dance floor.

"Booze is up!" A shout came from the back – a shout that sounded suspiciously like Hayley – and it and Sirius were greeted by a cheer and – on Sirius' part – a sudden envelopment of the crowd, hands tugging for his merchandise.

"Somebody take the birthday boy a drink!" Sirius called, ducking his way out of the havoc and laughing slightly.

James was before him, hand on one hip and hair carelessly messy, "You're throwing a party!"

Sirius stuck a blow horn in his mouth – conveniently located at a nearby table – "Surprise!" He tooted.

James rolled his eyes, slinging one arm over his best mates shoulder and ruffling his hair, "You. Are. A. Wanker!"

Sirius chuckled, "Lubs you too mate."

Glancing at him snidely, "Alright, wouldn't go that far!" And, accepting a firewhiskey from an eager looking fifth year he released Sirius' shoulder and backed away. "Places to go, people to do," he winked at the girl, who blushed scarlet and tried to stutter something.

Silly girl – she was obviously not his type.

But, really, Mary was looking _fine_ tonight.

* * *

Hayley saw James step away from Sirius and back away from a girl who quite clearly had her tongue hanging out of her mouth as she followed an oblivious James across the room.

"James, darling!" She called, stepping into his path and throwing her arms around his neck.

If she gave the bimbo a death glare over his shoulder it was probably accidental.

Hayley took in a deep breath of James, "Happy Birthday!"

His arms folded around her, "Cheers, H-bear!"

And they stepped apart.

What had she expected, anyway?

"So, what did you get?" Hayley voluntarily put some distance between them, just so that her heart could have the chance to calm itself.

James blew out his cheeks in the typical James gesture for 'Merlin'. Hayley laughed at him.

"Well," he began, grinning and rubbing his jaw with the hand he didn't hold alcohol in, "For starters Sirius got me a new school tie."

They laughed together.

They _sounded good_ together, did that count for something?

"Well, you must have made up for that with Daddy-dearest?" Hayley teased, slightly nervous because the subject of parents was often sore around the Marauders.

This time, luckily, James just laughed, "Oh, the usual couple of thousand galleons, best new broomstick, season ticket to England games."

"Skimping it a bit this year, isn't he?" Hayley rolled her eyes, "Honestly, J-bear, I'm tempted to marry you for your money!"

He laughed – as she had hoped he would – and passed her his drink, "Here you go instead." And he walked away, joking with Kelt as he passed and heading for the food. Typical James.

Typical Hayley, hurting.

She knocked back a glug of fire-whiskey, wincing as it burnt the back of her throat and tearing her eyes from his retreating path.

"Mary!" Hayley jumped slightly, her hand flying to her heart at the sight of her tall brunette friend stood barely half a metre from her with a strange expression on her face.

"You like him," Mary accused, frowning intently.

Hayley felt the primary jolt of fear just below her navel, "What are you talking about, Mare?"

But the other girl kept her brown eyes still on Hayley's own, and she was forced to swallow lest her fear forced words from her mouth that she would regret later.

Mary smiled sadly, "You've been letting me talk about him all month."

And there was the bottom line: Hayley had let Mary talk on and on about her latest crush – the handsome, the talented, the gorgeous, rich and funny James Potter. Didn't he just have it all? Wasn't he just sooo good looking? Didn't he just make everyone else want to lick that hard earned sweat from his abs? No? Just Mary, then.

But it had been just Mary...and Hayley.

And Hayley had _liked_ hearing someone say nice things about James. For too long had she sat through Lily Damn-Her Evans' rants about how stupid, how immature he was just because the idiot ginger couldn't see how good she had it with James' attention. So yeah, it was good to hear that Hayley wasn't completely by herself in the pro-James Potter corner.

And she had always known that Mary just had a Knight-In-Shining-Armour thing going on. She would get over it. And so would Hayley. Or James; whichever came first.

Fuck the world.

* * *

Lily ducked out into the corridor to seek the cooler, less sweaty air. She was smiling a little – despite her irritation that Black had failed to do as promised.

The party was good. Well, the music was slightly too loud and the punch slightly too suspicious for Lily's personal taste, but so far there'd been no fighting, no drugs and no throwing up. Really, she didn't know how the Marauders managed it: every time they threw a party – and it happened less often than most people might think – they managed to hit the nail on the head; no body too drunk and everyone enjoying themselves.

She had to take her hat off to them – it was impressive.

Lily swiped her hair away from her eyes, pulling a bobble from her wrist and winding it around the silky strands she raised from her neck in a high ponytail. She knew it wouldn't suit her, but she did it anyway because there was no one she was trying to impress and she was all alone anyway.

But just to check, she glanced to both sides.

"Marlene?" She took a double take.

Marlene McKinnon was a pretty girl – slightly above voluptuous and lacking any real interest in her appearance, but she could get away with it because she had good cheekbones, a sweet smile and volumes of billowing white-gold locks. She wasn't the kind of girl that stuck with you after a mere glance; more the kind of girl who after a few years of being friends you suddenly realised that, oh yeah, she really was gorgeous and you wouldn't mind a piece of that!

Now, with her legs drawn up to her chest and a guilty expression hanging off her face, Lily couldn't help but smirk at her best friend.

"What are you doing out here?" Lily walked over, flicking her hair down her back and smiling down at the blonde who usually stood taller than her.

Marlene shrugged, "Air?"

Lily felt a twinge of something quite like upset squeeze her stomach, and she swallowed hard against the urge to recognise it as such. Alcohol did funny things to people's systems, after all.

"Same," she replied instead, pressing her back to the wall and sinking down until she sat beside her friend with her legs sticking out before her.

They sat in comfortable quiet until Lily's rosy cheeks became their customary pale – courtesy of being a ginger.

"Do you like the party?" She asked Marlene.

"Will certainly seems to," Marlene looked down at her fingers entwined together, a soft frown puckering her forehead.

Lily heard the concern in her voice, "Oh?"

Marlene didn't reply, and again Lily was forced to waylay an unjustified emotive response.

Tilting her head against Marlene's shoulder she fluttered her eyelashes up at her.

Marlene grinned, "Oh, Lily, if I were a boy I totally would fancy you right now." Lily's eyebrows shot up, she laughed and nudged Marlene's teasing shoulder with her own.

"Well, that's what I like to hear!" A new voice joined their conversation, smirk evident in his tone even before he dropped down beside Lily and threw an arm around her shoulder.

"You smell of firewhiskey, Black," Lily wrinkled her nose and shoved him off, leaning further into her blonde haven.

"Don't mind me, do continue," Sirius waved them forward eagerly, his teeth bared in a crude grin.

Huffing, Marlene got to her feet, "I'll see you around Lily," and she headed for the common room door.

Watching her go, Lily pulled a face at Sirius, "Good one, Black."

He pulled an innocent expression, "What could you mean?"

Lily, rolling her eyes as yet again he deposited his arm around her, held up one hand, "First you smuggled alcohol into the castle," she ticked off one finger, "then you threw a party on a school night, then you corrupted minors, and _now_ you've upset Marlene!"

Sirius locked eyes with her, "That still gives me one finger to go..." he pointed out.

Lily smirked, "Wow Black, you can count and everything."

"I'm a talented bloke." He returned cheerfully.

"That's one way of putting it." A snide voice cut in, "Through lies."

Starting, Lily and Sirius looked up into the glowering face of Severus Snape.

"I could take points from Gryffindor, you know Black. For hosting a party. Or perhaps a nice detention?" He scowled at Sirius darkly, eyes fixed in a way that Lily recognised as his disgusted face.

Sirius leapt to his feet nimbly, not noticing as he knocked Lily to the side roughly, "Snape I swear on Merlin that this time -" he drew his wand threateningly, or started to at least – Snape's wand cut into his throat before it was all the way out.

A muscle jumped in Sirius' jaw, and the two, dark haired dark eyes teens glared at one another.

Sirius looked at Snape and felt nothing but hatred for the boy; the stupid, idiotic, bastard boy who had hurt James and who thought that he was better than everyone else. He made Sirius' skin crawl, his breath come out in harsh, rugged gasps of distrust. Sirius would bet that the coward would stick the knife in Lily's back himself.

"Okay, that's enough." Lily herself spoke, and when Sirius' eyes went to her he was surprised by how calm she was.

"You have no business here, Snape." She turned her attention to the Slytherin dryly. "If you want to take points you are at perfect liberty to, but Black hasn't done any harm so there's not really much point. Otherwise, could you leave, please?" She spoke to him politely, courteously even; as to a stranger.

Snape blanched, and his wand fell an inch, "Lily..."

But she held up a porcelain hand, "That's enough."

Sirius watched as he waited. He saw the indecision on the Slytherin's face, and he saw so much more. He saw how much pain the boy was in – he saw how much Lily's indifference damaged him and, maybe because he spent so much time around James, he understood why.

Snape dropped the wand, "Have it your way, Evans."

And he sent Lily one last, longing look – and to Sirius a filthy one – before skulking into the shadows, disappearing round the corner.

Lily turned away from Sirius.

He didn't know what to say. She had stood up for him, against _Snape_. Sirius knew that they weren't friends anymore, but Sirius couldn't ever imagine...couldn't ever _have_ imagined a situation like this. Maybe it was just her strong moral code? Maybe she honestly felt nothing for Snape anymore – she had sounded so distant...like it was any other prefect duty.

"Nice timing there," he joked awkwardly to her turned back.

His words – too loud and frivolous – echoed back between them, a wedge between the fragile acquaintance they'd aimed towards, as condemning as any hex. The faded light twinkled at him, mocking him for his lack of tact and unimportance.

Lily turned to face him, eyes dry, "You're welcome." But she sounded as no young woman should sound – like that one boy, that brief stop, had left her with the weight of a thousand on her poor, tired heart; like she just wanted it to stop.

"He's not worth it, Evans." Sirius meant it. He was actually a little angry with her – for thinking that the bastard meant something; for picking him over James; for breaking James' heart, always.

She looked at her feet, hair scraped back from her face and revealing that she was not likely to answer. Her green eyes were shielded. Sirius turned to leave.

"Why?" She called him back, when his hand hit the common room entrance hole, left slightly ajar so that the fat lady could get some rest with everyone coming in and out.

Sirius turned to look at her, a silhouette against the torchlight; small and incredibly fragile, "What?"

"Why isn't he worth it?" She wanted to know, taking a hopeful step towards him.

Sirius stared at her incredulously, "Evans, what has he ever done for you? When has he _ever _stood up for you?" She did not answer, so he continued ruthlessly, "He's going to be a Death Eater, you can't deny it. And guess what Death Eater's do? They kill muggle-borns, Evans. They _murder_ people like you: for existing! That's what he's going to be out doing in a few years – killing people for being born; and if it came down to it, do you really think he'd stand up for you then? When it's him and five Death Eaters and they're telling him to kill you? Because history says no, Lily."

She had no reply for that, and he was more than angry, because Regulus' face was swimming in his mind and he was _terrified_, because he, too, was on the other side from someone he loved. What would he do?

He swung the portrait hole open, greeting the roaring party with no enthusiasm except from getting away from her and this conversation.

He picked up a fire-whiskey, knocking back several quick gulps that brought tears to his eyes which he wiped away roughly. And if Remus sent him concerned looks from his sober corner then it was none of his business.

"Melanie Fisher!" He turned to the blonde immediately to his right, "You are looking _fine_ tonight. Really, it's the only reason I'm letting you, being a Ravenclaw, stay. How about I bring you a drink?" She blushed, giggled, and nodded; it appeased Sirius that some things never changed.

Speaking of, he looked quickly around, where was James?

But it was fine, because he was talking to Rich and Lucy in the corner – probably that Quidditch story about the time his dad bought him tickets for the Argentina/South Africa game. They were laughing appropriate amounts, at least.

He turned his attention back to the alcohol, reminding himself about Melanie Fisher and her particularly good set of legs.

Lily was next to the drinks table.

But it was fine, because Melanie had a particularly good set of legs, and he could distract himself enough to forget their conversation for a little while, and James would never have to know. And, as a silver lining, maybe he'd got through to her.

She looked moody enough.

He swiped a couple of bottles – (didn't Peter have a thing for the girl next to Melanie? Katie something? Rebecca something? Cute, in a girl-next-door kind of way, if you were into that...) – and left without talking to her.

"Melanie darling," he winked at her, "here you are." He passed her a bottle. "And here _you _are," he passed her shorter friend a bottle, too, and pointed her in Peter's direction. He'd thank Sirius in the morning.

"So," Melanie asked, slipping a straw she'd conjured into her mouth in a way that was obviously calculated to be provocative, "how's your evening been?"

Great. Sirius had thrown a success of a party, had a great time with his friends, got far too drunk on a school night, broken about twenty school rules and a few legit laws, and he was about to pull.

Oh, and he'd had a shit conversation with Lily Evans.

"You know what, Melanie," he began apologetically, "I'll be right back." And he dropped a peck onto her cheek, vanishing through the crowd before she could protest.

* * *

"And then the Argentinean seeker – Cristobal Eglisha? Heard of him? – jumps from his broom onto Selami's back and starts screaming at him in Spanish!" James recounted through his tears of laughter, gripping onto Rich's shoulder – which was violently shaking itself. Lucy doubled over, clutching her stomach and gasping for him to stop.

"But _he can't understand_!" James howled, and the three of them fell apart and rushed back together in hysterics so intense that when Will Selwyn rushed past looking for Marlene he was unable to answer.

Eventually, with the music throbbing around the trio and the room getting ever more crowded, James regained his breath enough to continue with the tale.

"Ladies and Gentlemen and Hufflepuffs!" A voice, entirely recognisable even if it did slur with alcohol's influence, cut across him, magically magnified but not by much. Smiles still on, James and Lucy turned to look at Sirius, who had clambered onto the back of the sofa despite the obvious damage he had caused to several nearby books.

From one hand drooped a near-empty bottle of firewhiskey, and the other he gestured around the room with, enveloping the onlookers with amusement with the endearing, sloppy, intoxicated movement.

"Today is, as we are all aware, my best mate and Gryffindor's resident nut-job, James Potter's birthday!" A drunken cheer greeted his enthusiastic words and he quietened them down dramatically. "And, because he's a _twat_ but we love him anyway. Like, he might be totally shit at getting anything right – apart from Quidditch – but his heart's in the right place." (Sirius pulled a face that raised laughter from the crowd, but James saw his eyes dart to someone in the shadow and knew that he meant the message sincerely.) " So I think we should all make a toast to James Potter, and wish him a Happy New Year as a grown up!"

Someone – it was Hayley, James would bet on it – called something along the lines of, "Yeah, right." but they were overshadowed by everyone else rocking to their feet and weaving their bottles, glasses, bare hands into the air.

"Happy New Year!" Sirius called, from his position over them all.

"Happy New Year!" And the room filled with the sound of clinking, cheering, and gentle pats on James' backs as each person tried to wish him their own personal message.

"Happy New Year," Sirius muttered again, and fell of the chair.

* * *

**Reviews are like Christmas!**


	7. It's All Just A Game

**Second Year**

Sirius Black was perfect.

He was just perfect!

With that hair that looked so soft, lips that drew the eye and mischievous grin; that grin made Marlene's stomach curl with appreciation. How could anyone be so good looking?

And Marlene was sure he liked her, too. Sometimes – that morning, for example – he looked at her and winked, and just because Clara Jaysendew said that he winked at her last week, too, didn't mean he _had_. Clara was just jealous because, well, Marlene thought that this might be love, between her and Sirius.

And it wasn't just that he was handsome! God, no! Marlene wasn't that shallow (unlike Clara Jaysendew)! Sirius was also clever, and funny, and loyal, and brave. Really, there wasn't anything he _couldn't_ do.

And today was the day she was going to tell him.

Valentines Day – she had been waiting all week for today; she had made a card and gone on a diet (because when they took photos then she would have to look her best) and asked that Mary MacDonald girl to do her makeup (same reason) because she was the best at eye liner. And now, pretty and ready, she knocked on the door.

And it was okay that Sirius didn't come to her, first, because he was just shy and that was cute, too. And anyway, she was a feminist, so she shouldn't have a problem with being assertive. They were going to be in an equal-relationship.

The door swung open and James Potter blinked at her in surprise.

Marlene craned her head around him to look for Sirius, "Is Sirius in?" She asked, when she didn't immediately spot him and James coughed indiscreetly to ask her what the hell she wanted.

Whatever.

"Toss-pot, it's for you!" James called over his shoulder, stalking away from the door and leaping onto Remus with a savage war cry.

Sirius strolled from the bathroom and Marlene's heart stopped. It was like there was no one else in the world but them. Butterflies filled her stomach.

"Hi," she whispered.

He gave her a look. A look that said 'who-are-you?' but he was shy and that was just for the benefit of his friends – he was looking out for them, and that was cute.

Sirius stepped out into the corridor with her, smirking at his friends' antics (now Peter was sat on top of James on top of Remus, who was pretending to be dead).

"Wassup?" Sirius asked.

That was cute.

"I just came to say..." it was like someone had stolen her breath, but she choked it out anyway, "I love you."

Marlene beamed at Sirius for a full three seconds before noticing the look of disgust and panic on his face.

"Um," Sirius replied, "Who are you?"

Afterwards – when James burst from the room to drag Sirius, but unfortunately not Marlene's humiliation, away – Marlene hurried down the stairs and out of the common room.

How could Sirius do this to her? She had been so _sure_ that he loved her, too. And she would never get over this! Never! If she couldn't have Sirius Black she would die a spinster!

"Um, Marlene?" A voice called her back to the present, and Marlene looked around to realise that she had come to an abrupt halt just outside the Entrance Hall doors. The sun was dying behind the forest (just like her heart) and the boy in question – Marlene had no idea who he was – was a freckled, skinny bloke who was shorter than her.

"Are you ok?" The boy asked her now, getting to his feet awkwardly and setting down his book.

Marlene blinked at him. Of course she wasn't ok, couldn't she see that her heart was smashed into pieces?

"Sorry," the boy blathered on, but Marlene found the sound of his voice strangely comforting, and she had realised that she had never seen Sirius read, "my name's Will Selwyn."

* * *

**Sixth Year**

James stretched sleepily, his fingers finding the edge under the headboard and his back arching into the warm invitation of the duvet as he turned his face further into the pillow and smiled. The sun was not yet up, frost coating the lawn outside thickly and fog still pressed against the slats in the window, but he shook of the tiredness and opened his eyes to the bleary world brightly.

Today was going to be a good day, he could tell.

Swinging his tracksuit clad legs out of the four poster bed, James' toes made contact with the thick carpet, magically heated so that when he settled his weight onto them even wriggling he could not feel any guilty cold between the individual fibers. He got to his feet, taking a moment to check this he had not accidentally woken anyone else in his dorm.

He mashed his glasses to his nose, slung a t-shirt over his bare torso, stuffed his legs into a new pair of tracksuit and his feet into the trainers he reserved specifically for this purpose and moved towards the door silently. When he was nearly there he took a sharp right and detoured to beside Kelt's beside, where he checked the clock (it had taken him years to get used to the idea of mechanics to wake someone, rather than just an alarm spell, but he now recognised that the equipment had its own rustic charm) just to make sure the alarm was set for the right time. There was nothing wrong with being secure.

The Common Room was still, disturbed only by one lazy cat that lifted its head and blinked at him with contempt before slipping back to sleep. He pulled a face at it good naturedly, heading out of the portrait hall (the fat lady was really not an attractive sleeper) and taking the left corridor until he reached a full sized painting of a brooding man reading a book and curling the ends of his thin moustache around his hand.

"McGregor!" He greeted quietly, and the man looked up at him sharply.

"James, my good chap!" He set down the novel he was reading, pulling and lighting a pipe from his pocket; he checked his fob-watch. "Bit early for you, isn't it?"

James nodded happily, "I'm going on a run."

The older, painted man nodded knowingly, though James rather doubted he'd ever had to run in his life. He looked much more like the horse-riding type.

"Can I go down?" He asked, instead of making his observation known (because he had come to learn that McGregor was quite capricious in his affections, and such a point if noted at the wrong time could well be considered rude).

Perhaps sensing his unmentioned thought, McGregor raised one eyebrow in mild reproach as he swept his top hat from his head and bowed low, motioning with one finger for James to proceed.

There was a subtle click, and when James pulled on the brass frame it came away from the wall.

"Thank you!" He called over his shoulder as he ducked into the passage. This was one of Hogwarts' more refined secret corridors – if opened at both ends it could well be misinterpreted as a legitimate section. It had even, paved flooring and wooden slats lining to half way up the wall, where they became encased in beige paint and endorsed with numerous paintings and carvings. Along the left hand side there were several large, airy windows (which James knew to be fake) but they filled the place with a light, pretty atmosphere and James navigated his way along it in good humour.

At the other end he waved goodbye to the two hunting dogs guarding their quarry, tapped the nut on the huge oaken doors which allowed him to open a much smaller, much more secret doorway and stepped out into the night.

The cold air hit him hard, and goosebumps rose on his tanned skin, but he didn't care because he could already feel his thigh muscles contracting and expanding in harmony, itching to get going, to be let free, to race one another in a delicious battle that could never be won.

He set off running. The hard ground pounded under his feet, moving faster and faster beneath him until he reached the lake and had to veer abruptly to the side. His chest swelled and fell and his eyes picked out the miniscule imperfections in the sandy ground near the lake that could impede his path.

He wanted to reach the forest.

He _needed_ to reach the forest, and the desire became so strong that a hundred metres from the edge he suddenly broke into a sprint, crossing the distance in a short time and flinging himself into the dense packed trees with reckless lack of interest in his personal safety.

He barely waited until the darkness swallowed him before allowing Prongs to rip free.

When he had become an animagus it had hurt. He hadn't expected it to – which was stupid considering all the theory had told him about how he was literally rewriting his own biological chemistry every time he transformed; whatever the hell that meant. But it was worth it: for Remus, but also for himself. He hadn't realised just how good having four legs was!

He ran through the forest at breakneck speed, loving the adrenaline of the rush of shrubbery and the fear of predators. His mind was still his own, but somehow he seemed to take on the persona of a deer mentally as well as physically. He was both jumpier and calmer as Prongs; he noticed little things more as Prongs; he disliked loud noises a lot more as Prongs.

And Prongs was so good at running.

* * *

"Boo!" Hayley gave a little shriek of fear, dropping her cutlery with a clatter as her hands flew to her chest, as two much larger, rougher hands crashed down on the long table beside her.

Cackling, James dropped into the next door seat.

For a second, Hayley revelled in being alone with him. Well, they were in a room full of people talking away, but for once there were no Marauders with him, none of the girls with her: it was just James and Hayley.

She liked it more than she should, she knew.

"You're such an idiot!" She nudged him with her shoulder teasingly, blushing as she remembered her squeak of terror.

James smirked, heaping fruit onto the stack of pancakes he had piled before him.

"That's very healthy," Hayley noted, gesturing to his meal with the fork she had regained.

"Quidditch, isn't it?" James said cheerfully, "Got to get the right nutrients."

In synchrony, they looked at Hayley's plate: two slices of toast, bacon all over the place, beans, fried tomatoes, sausages. The whole hog.

"Merlin, H-bear! How are you not obese?" James' eyebrows shot up, and he pinched the skin of her waist delicately.

She laughed, shrugging him off and pretending to sulk. His fingers burnt into her side, through her skin into her tender heart.

"So how are you feeling?" James was asking her then, digging into his pancakes with the same fervour he applied to everything he put his mind to.

She watched him devour the food for a moment with a soft smile on her face before replying, "Fine, yeah." She had meant it to be reassuring – she _was_ fine, honestly, just the usual mix of nerves and adrenaline and being close to James – but he must have heard something she missed in her own voice because when he looked at her he was concerned.

"You sure?" He set down his fork, pancake still speared upon the prongs.

If Hayley had been a bitchier girl she might have lied: said that actually she was quite annoyed (with, as a random example, Lily, perhaps) and could he have a word with her about being a decent person? If she had been more conniving, she might have told him that she was frightened about the game, and he might have slid his strong arm around her shoulders and held her close and whispered nice things to her about how she was the best player he'd ever played with and he wished everyone else could be like her. But Hayley wasn't bitchy (to James) or conniving (ever, really) and though both crossed her mind briefly she said neither.

"Really, I'm fine." She promised him, allowing herself a squeeze of his fingers.

She could see that James didn't entirely accept this version of her feelings, but he knew her well enough to know to drop the subject.

Instead, he took a look down the table in both directions, checking that his team were all up – they were – and taking a slug of pumpkin juice.

"I'll see you down there," he promised her, getting to his feet.

"See you," Hayley told his retreating back.

"Nervous?" For the second time, a sudden appearance startled her. She had been so engrossed in James' shoulders to notice Will Selwyn sliding towards her from several metres away.

"Nah, not really." Hayley smiled at Marlene's boyfriend affectionately. He was nice, Will; completely out of it, but nice.

She began to eat, munching her way through the fats and proteins and carbohydrates until her substantial meal had been whittled down to nothing

"I'm sure you'll do fine," he told her as she finished, picking at the cereal in front of him.

Hayley smiled again, but this time it was tighter. Spectators didn't really get the stress of being in the air: the ball and the players and the speed and the accuracy and the adrenaline and the height blending into one mix where you couldn't afford to make mistakes. Of course, neither did they get to experience the weightlessness, the victories and the amusements, the surge of power in your muscles as you watched the ball leave your fingers and sail through the air towards J- ...towards anyone.

"I'd better be going though," Hayley excused herself, feigning reluctance to be polite." She pushed herself to her feet, tapping her empty plate so that it vanished silently. She picked up an apple, "You know what the slave-driver's like."

Will laughed appreciatively. Everyone knew what James was like as a captain: completely ruthless, pushing his team past their normal endurance to their very limit and then sometimes beyond. But they were the best team in the school, and everyone knew that too.

Hayley took a bite from the fruit, and set off for the pitch.

It was going to be a good day.

* * *

**Third Year**

Will was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. His scarf was red, wound tightly around his neck, and his pink cheeks contrasted with it roughly. His fingers were knotted together in nerves and he hopped from one foot to the other.

As she watched, he kicked his own leg as he was landing and tripped, sprawling across the marble staircase haphazardly.

"Oh no!" She heard him mutter angrily – the closest he ever came to swearing – and then she was by his side, helping him to his feet.

"Are you ok?" She asked, scanning his face quickly for any sign of hurt and then flinging her arms around his shoulders when she found none.

"Marls, I'm fine!" He promised her, rubbing her back through her layers as though he were the one who should comfort her.

"Good," she muttered, disentangling himself from his arms.

He smiled sweetly at her.

"You've grown again," she noted, looking up at him.

He nodded, proud like he'd planned the achievement himself, and then proceeded to tug her through the doors towards the far gate, where a carriage was waiting to take them on their first ever Hogsmeade trip.

Snow coated the ground heavily, and Marlene kicked it up in front of them as they walked so that it settled as dust over their shoulders.

"You'll freeze," Will told her, taking off his own red scarf and tying it around her exposed neck when they were half-way there, under cover of trees.

"But now you'll be cold!" Marlene protested, fingering the warm material longingly.

Will smirked at her as he unbuttoned her coat, tucking the scarf firmly inside before redoing the large silver buckles on her black jacket.

"You look lovely," he complimented, and she smiled as she looked up.

He wasn't so bad himself: tall now, with that messy sandy blonde hair and pink cheeks, eyes that burned amber and eyelashes longer than hers. He was actually quite a bit better than not bad!

And he was very, very close.

His hand found hers and Marlene's breath came lighter but faster as her eyelids blinked shut gently. She raised – quite unintentionally – onto her toes, and her head tilted to the right as she reached softly for his lips with her own, and his heart was banging as loud as hers through the hand that she left against his chest.

His forehead met hers with a thud, and both of their eyes sprang apart.

"Oof," Will groaned, staggering backwards. Already, a red mark was appearing on his forehead, and in his eyes there was such a look of surprise that Marlene burst out laughing.

She laughed so hard that tears began their tracks down her cold face; that her body bent double to accommodate the spasms in her stomach; that she had to cover her face with her hands because people were looking at them strangely.

"Oh, Will," she giggled, when her laughter was finally subsiding, and he chuckled down at her too, embarrassed, and she kissed him hard on the lips

And it was perfect.

* * *

**Sixth Year**

"Hi, Will." Marlene greeted nervously. That was stupid – she had never been nervous around him. She never had need to be.

He looked at her and set down his knife and fork.

She had decked out in Gryffindor red – in support for the team – and he had done likewise (but of course that could mean anything, as _everyone_ was wearing red) and her hair was done in a low knot that she knew he liked.

She had come to say she was sorry.

She had come to explain that of course it wasn't his fault, it was all hers.

She had come to ask for them to work through this.

He looks at her, and he looks away.

"You're ignoring me?" Marlene asks incredulously, her hands falling limp to her sides. It's a rhetorical question: what else would he be doing?

"C'mon Marlene," Lily takes her arm gently, having seen it all, and pulls the stupefied girl from the scene. She leads her, silent, through the hall, and the voices of students and stares of witnesses pass over them like water because did Will just ignore Marlene?

"Did he just ignore me?" Marlene asked at one point, but her question went unanswered – or did she even ask it?

The time taken to reach the stands passed strangely: each step was an eternity, but when the arrived it seemed as though they had only just left the back of Will's head.

"She's just a bit under the weather," Lily explained to their friends, when Marlene failed to answer their polite enquiries as to why she looked like she'd been forced to eat her own vomit.

Marlene nodded, like she knew what was going on.

"They'll be coming out in a minute," a voice said smartly and Marlene turned blithely toward Reginald Cattermole, dressed in red (which did _not_ suit his complexion) and holding a pair of binoculars tightly in his fists. His glasses caught the meek sun.

Will wore glasses when he read.

* * *

Regulus leant back in his hard wooden chair, accidentally knocking some first years out of the way. Well, he would say accidentally, if he was asked. They left, wise creatures.

Slytherin wasn't playing (or he would be in it) but the sport still interested him (which was impressive, given that near to nothing did) especially when James Potter was playing.

Oh, Regulus hated him. Hated him with a passion that rivalled Severus Snape's hate of the boy, though he concealed it better. What kind of bastard poisoned someone's mind against their own family?

James had taken Sirius, and Regulus would never forgive him for it.

But he was still an exceptional Quidditch player.

"Black." A voice greeted curtly, and his own hand was knocked off the chair to his right by a well placed jinx.

Regulus glared at Snape as he took his seat. He hadn't scared away those first years just to be lumped with the company of someone else who he didn't like! Honestly, if Potter didn't start pulling some moves Regulus could copy out of the bag soon then Regulus would give up and go inside, back to the relative warmth and the distance from Ravenclaw's current humiliation (did they not practice ever?).

"Snape," he replied, rather than voice his displeasure.

Black's did not act upon their emotions, Regulus had learnt that the same way as Sirius: the hard way. Ironic, then, that Sirius, placed in Gryffindor, was the one that ran away and Regulus, the measly Slytherin, had stuck it out.

Which was braver: sticking out something you hate or leaving although you fear it?

Regulus didn't much care – the way he saw it Sirius was left without his inheritance, without his family, without a home or provisions or excuses. The Potters, while rich, were French in origin, and they did not match the prestige the Black family did.

But at that moment Regulus' thoughts were cut short as a bludger skimmed past James' head dangerously close; the crowd let out a collection sigh of relief and disappointment and Regulus leant in.

The grip on James' broom handle had changed – he was close enough to see that. James had slid his right had completely around to grip the broom from the wrong side and, as Regulus watched, he righted the action.

Getting to his feet, Regulus nodded decisively in Snape's general direction and made his exit.

Potter had given him all he needed, now he would explore the advantages of his discovery in his own time.

* * *

"Congratulations," Mary screamed in James' ear, tilting into his body to be heard over the noise of the rowdy party surrounding them. Marlene barely noticed, though she was stood only inches away from them, anxiously scanning the crowd. Where was Will?

Lily was chatting to Reginald Cattermole in a far, quieter corner; Mary was here, with James and the rest of the Marauders; Hayley was with Kelt and Ellie, reliving some certain moment good naturedly; all around, blonde head, brunette's, the odd person with black or ginger hair, moved around steadily, creating a flow of familiar faces that confused Marlene and comforted her not at all. She couldn't see Will.

It wasn't like he could talk to anyone else.

He was like her: neither of them found it easy to strike up a conversation with a stranger; both of them preferred to spend time with one another over anyone else. If everyone else in their year was otherwise occupied there was no way that Will would talk to anyone else – it just wasn't him.

She hadn't seen him at the match either, but then he had never been particularly interested in Quidditch; he only really went because Marlene liked it.

And he had no reason to go for Marlene's sake now, did he? Not when he was angry with her.

"I can't see Will!" She tugged on Mary's cardigan roughly, drawing the statuesque brunette's attention.

Mary gave her a look of disappointment mixed with incredulity, "So?"

So? What did Mary not get about this? Marlene sighed and pushed her way through the crowds towards the boys stairwell. She _had_ to find Will. She didn't know who she was without Will.

"Marlene!" It was Mary, catching Marlene's arm this time and looking almost angry.

"What?" Marlene spat, trying to work her way loose, closer to Will. He might be worried without her...

"Don't go and find him." Mary begged, pulling Marlene further away into the swell of people.

"Why wouldn't I?" Marlene replied, staring at her friend in horror.

The music thudded, heavy and pressing around the pair. Light flashed in Marlene's vision and she felt her breath come thinner, Mary's touch and voice fading as blood rushed from her head.

"McKinnon?" Sirius caught her as she stumbled, half chuckling until he realised that she was not, as he had assumed, simply drunk, but rather that there was an actual problem.

He pulled her, with Mary following quickly, to the staircase and instructed her to put her head between her legs. After a moment she felt more normal, and she sheepishly raised her gaze to meet two pairs of concerned eyes.

"You ok?" Sirius asked calmly, handing her a glass of water which she chugged gratefully, nodding in reply.

"She wanted to go and find Will," Mary muttered to Sirius in a manner that Marlene deemed as supposed to be discrete.

Sirius looked between them, "And that's a bad thing?"

Mary shot him an angry look; like he was dense for not catching onto the issue immediately. She tossed her long brown hair over her shoulder, "_Yes_."

"Right." Sirius looked nonplussed, but it takes a certain kind of man to disagree with a confident Mary MacDonald.

"They had an argument." Mary told him.

"We did _not_," Marlene disagreed vehemently, trying and failing to get to her feet. Again, Sirius caught her.

"Ok, there, McKinnon, I've got you." He settled her back on the stairs and sat beside her. "Why don't you go and talk to Hayley," he suggested to Mary, who, rolling her eyes, did as she was told reluctantly.

Marlene sat beside the Marauder dully, waiting for him to allow her escape so she could get to Will sooner.

"So what was the argument about?" Sirius asked calmly, taking the empty glass from her and magically filling it again.

"We didn't argue." Marlene told him shortly, waving the drink away.

Sirius shrugged away both her rejection and her answer, "Whatever. So what's MacDonald's problem?"

Marlene huffed: it was a long running bone of contention with Mary, "She thinks we spend too much time together."

Sirius snorted, "What would she know? Her boyfriends last, what, a week?"

This irked Marlene: just because her and Mary were having a spat did not mean that Black got to imply that she was cheap. "Coming from you?" She shot at him.

He smirked, and she wanted to slap it from his face.

"She was always the racy one," Sirius mused, taking a sip from Marlene's drink, "even when we were eleven she wore makeup and flirted with everyone."

Marlene smiled, too, as she remembered eleven year old Mary – far ahead of the rest of them in fashion and maturity, and not afraid to point it out. She was so full of life, Mary; she still was.

"And remember you?" Sirius continued, nudging her gently, "You were so energetic back then, remember?"

Marlene chuckled, "I used to be in the Quidditch team!" She recalled wonderously.

"You used to run to lessons!" Sirius topped, laughing outright now.

"I used to hate sitting still, I was always dancing or running or doing something sporty." Marlene saw herself clearly, small and chubby but with so much energy that people used to get tired keeping up with her. She was always the last one asleep and the first one awake.

"Anyway," Sirius got to his feet suddenly, "Prince Charming's up in the dorm," he gestured up the stairs and – she could have sworn that she saw him blush slightly – he made a hasty retreat to James' crowded side.

Confused a little, Marlene got to her feet.

Each step was a memory for her: the first time she went to Hogwarts, the first time she met Will, Clara and Tash Jaysendew leaving, James asking Lily out for the first time, James asking Lily out for the last time, Will kissing her, Will's hand on her face, Will's voice, quoting Pride and Prejudice. She had been with him for so long – how could she be anything else now? He was part of her: five years they had been together – nearly a third of her life. Everything she was, he was too. They were so similar.

But Marlene couldn't ignore the small voice in her head that reminded her that they hadn't always been similar.

"Will?" She pushed open the door to the Marauder's room (everyone thought of it as such, because Kelt and Will made far less of an impact).

He was curled up under his duvet, Jane Eyre cradled tenderly in his hands, though he put it to one side as she came in.

He cracked first – lifting his thin arms up to her, beckoning her into him, and she went.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, kissing her forehead gently, holding her close.

And Marlene cried, her face pressed to his chest because Will was the only one who could get her through what was to come and he was also the only one who couldn't be there for her.

"I'm so sorry," the words spilt out of her in synchrony with her tears, and he smoothed the liquid off her cheeks as he murmured the words into unimportance.

Marlene cried for several minutes, silently but violently, and Will hugged her, and it broke her heart because he hadn't figured her out yet.

"Will?" Marlene whispered finally, ducking out of his hold and backing a few inches away so that she could see his face.

"Yes, love?" He replied softy, and the word dug into her chest.

And wasn't that the truth of it? Marlene _loved_ Will. Will _loved_ Marlene. So, so much.

"What was I like when we were little?"

He knew what she meant, and he grinned as he touched her hair wonderously, "Full of energy. You always wanted to do things – you had to smell every flower, you had to climb every tree. You were a whirlwind."

She smiled at his description, but it was a sad smile and he knew it; his returned smile was drooping slightly.

"When did I change?" She wanted to know next.

The room grew darker slightly, or maybe that was just the way the young couple saw it, because they both knew the answer and it weighed heavily on their hearts.

"We could do more," Will suggested, "take up ice skating or horse riding or something."

Marlene thought about it: pictured Will's hand in hers as they swirled around together on some frozen lake, pine trees a wall from them and the outside world.

And she knew.

"I have to say something and you have to let me finish because this is killing me," Marlene looked down at the sheet. "Promise me?"

She felt Will nod.

"I love you." Marlene began, laughing shortly without humour, "I love you so much. But..."

Will closed his eyes tightly.

"But," Marlene continued ruthlessly, heartbrokenly, "sometimes love isn't enough. You and I want different things, now. We act in different ways but we're _so similar_. And I just..." her voice trailed off, and by this time she was crying so hard that she couldn't ever imagine stopping, and how could this hurt so incredibly much, like someone was reaching inside of her chest and crushing everything into one meaningless, hurtful mess.

"I just need to know who _Marlene _is, you know?" She finished hysterically, clutching her fingers to her side desperately.

"Marls, I _know_ who Marlene is! She's beautiful, and sweet, and clever. She wouldn't say boo to a goose, but she's got a fantastic sense of humour, and she wants to be a medical nurse. She likes the colour purple the most, she supports the Cannons, and she's got the most beautiful smile. Marlene is-"

"No." Marlene cut off his tearful soliloquy, "That's not me." They stared at one another. "That's _your_ Marlene. I need to know who _my_ Marlene is."

She got to her feet, shakily, unable to break eye contact.

And could she really do this? Because this was Will, and he hadn't done anything wrong. And she loved him. And nothing could be worth this pain. And this was Will.

"Please," Will gasped through his tears, and she went to him because Marlene McKinnon was capable of hurting herself this much but she could not abide to see Will hurt like this. She kissed away his tears, pushing his hair from his forehead and capturing his mouth with her own as their tears mixed, salty, in their mouths.

"I love you," Marlene wept.

"I love you," Will whispered into her mouths. His hands tightened around her as she pulled away, "Please don't do this."

But he couldn't keep her there, and the cold air between them was uncrossable.

"I love you." Marlene said, because what if she could never tell him again.

And, tears making it impossible to see, Marlene left the room. Her back pressed against the door and she pressed her bunched fists into her mouth as she sobbed.

What had she done?

* * *

**There you go! Chapter 7 up! Hope you enjoyed it, as always all comments are welcome! ~Meli**


	8. The Monster Within

**Hiya guys, sorry it's been a while. This was a horrible chapter to write, but I promise that after this things start to get lighter again (this is definitely the most depressing chapter in the story).  
**

* * *

**Werewolves: human or hunters?**

**For years, the wizarding community has lived in fear of lythancropy, a condition under which a man will transform into a wolf state under the influence of a full moon – namely, a werewolf. But recently more and more movements have occurred to attempt to give lythancropes more rights an an equal place in society? So – are werewolves to be treated as humans, or as hunters, set on destroying all we deem good? Francine Startwright reports.**

"Bloody Francine Startwright," James growled angrily, stuffing the double spread onto the table violently and flicking the crumpled paper off onto the floor, "What would she know?" He glared at the place where the paper had vanished several seconds before as though willing his fury to affect said reporter.

"Trouble in paradise?" Lily asked, raising her eyebrows as she stooped to raise the trashed news, smoothing it out and glancing at the open page. "Human's or hunters," she quoted dryly, taking a seat. It comforted James that she looked as revolted by the question as he felt.

"Paradise is overrated," he told her matter of factly, "I'm a hell-boy myself."

"No you're not." She disagreed. "Though you'll probably make me change my mind soon enough."

James quelled the absurd surge of warmth low in his stomach, "Paradise is overrated." He insisted again, ignoring her other comment.

"Says who?" Lily asked, pouring and drinking her pumpkin juice. She began to read the article, and James watched her for a moment without replying.

The sunlight lit up her hair and the shadows under her eyes were enhanced by the way she bowed her head.

"You already know. How's Marlene?" James grimaced wryly as she looked up at him sharply.

They held one another's gaze for a moment: Lily to discern with what tone and intent he was asking, and James because her eyes were really very pretty.

Lily looked away first, "She's..." The ginger trailed off, trying to find words to describe the unfortunate blonde.

"Will's much the same." James got a brief vision of Will when James had left: covered in tears, wrapped tightly in his duvet as though it could protect him from the horrors that had passed.

He had barely moved all week, he didn't sleep, he didn't eat.

"And Sirius got a letter from his parents this morning, so everything's good in that department." He continued bitterly.

Lily could imagine that: James angrily ranting and Sirius sitting, silently blaming the world for hurting him like this and hating himself for burdening the world. She didn't want to know what the letter said.

The two Gryffindors lapsed into silence, each locked in their own thoughts. James pulled the newspaper towards himself again, rereading it with a calmer eye.

"Recent developments show that perhaps lythancropes can be in control of themselves when in human form." James read quietly, scoffing furiously. "Developments such as common sense?"

Lily rested her fork down, "Why wouldn't they be in control?"

James glanced at her briefly, and his eyes were nearly black behind the glasses, "Some wizards believe that their animalistic nature bleeds into everyday life. It's complete trash, of course, but it doesn't stop werewolves from being shunned."

Again, silence.

Mary appeared in the doorway to the entrance hall, obviously out of breath, and she called Lily, drawing the duos attention to her.

"I have to go, that'll be a Marlene crisis." Lily muttered (she hadn't meant it to sound like an apology, but it did) and got to her feet hastily. She quickly gathered a napkin of toast and berries, pulling a jug of pumpkin juice into her arms.

"Well, it's a good thing there's that petition," she gestured to the notice at the bottom of the Prophet, and hurried to join the taller brunette.

Confused, James looked at the other cover.

**Petition: Werewolves Are People, They Deserve More**

It advertised.

James was signing up before Lily had left the room.

* * *

"Hello?" Hayley peeped her head around the boy's dormitory door, screwing up her eyes to see in the darkness. Why were the curtains drawn, anyway? And it _stank_.

At first glance there was no one there: no tell tale noise coming from Sirius, no Remus splayed across his bed reading, no Peter idly doing nothing and no James, restlessly tapping _something _against _something_ else. The room was quiet and still and empty.

At second glance she saw Will.

"Aww, Will! You look awful!" Hayley entered the room fully, padding over to the fifth bed out of six and perching on the dirty end, moving several chocolate wrappers out of the way.

His eyes remained open, staring at the opposite wall, "Go away."

The Gryffindor girl shook her head emphatically, "You know Marlene's just the same. It's silly really."

"Go away." He repeated softly.

Hayley didn't mean to be nasty. She couldn't know that hearing Marlene's name was both like someone had slid a very sharp object amongst his intestines and wriggled it around a little and like the only ray of sunlight he had seen in years (except she probably could have, if she had tried really hard). Nor could she have understood what was coming if she _didn't_ leave him alone (because she hadn't really thought about the first point). Because Hayley hadn't had her heart broken like he had: oh, she had experienced her fair share of bruising and regrets and bitterness, but never before had she _had_ the person she loved, and she didn't understand what it was to _lose_ them.

"What you both need is some exercise," Hayley reprimanded him in a voice she intended to be gentle but came out slightly reprimanding.

"Get out!" Will screamed, jerking up to a sitting position. Several specks of saliva landed on Hayley's astonished cheek and the wardrobe doors rattled ominously as his hands convulsed around his sheets. "You don't know what you're talking about! Well guess what Hayley, you have _no one_. No one cares about you! I _hate_ you! You think that anyone needs _you_? What's so special about _you_? Is there _anything _you actually know what you're talking about? You're not needed! No one gives a fuck about you!"

His words followed her down the corridor, ringing in her ears until she managed to shakily lock her bathroom door behind herself.

Her tears burned her face, and she scrubbed at them futilely a couple of times before giving up, bunching her baggy men's shirt into her mouth so that the girls – crowded behind the curtains of Marlene's bed, only metres away from where Hayley was right now – wouldn't hear her cry.

He was wrong, that was all there was to it.

Of course people cared about Hayley: there were her parents, for one. And her friends. And James cared about her, perhaps not the way she would like, but as a friend.

So Will was wrong; _he _was the one who didn't know what he was talking about.

And yes, Hayley might not be especially good at school-work, what with how she only got A's in her OWLs and opted for only 4 NEWTs, and her hair was stringy and features plain, and she was the lowest scoring chaser on the house team, but she could do _something_. For one...

For one what?

What could Hayley actually do _well_?

What was there that people were like: "Oh, you know that Hayley girl in Gryffindor who does-"

What was there that people were jealous at her over?

What was there that she _wasn't_ jealous at someone over?

She was average. Plain. Unneeded, unnoticed, unwanted.

But...

Her dad had died, and her mother remarried and had other children. She didn't get on with two of her three housemates, and both of them got on with Mary as well as Hayley did so she couldn't even claim her. James had Sirius, and Peter and Remus; and James loved Lily, not Hayley.

Hayley, really, had no one.

And who would ever want her – there was nothing special about her. She wasn't pretty, smart, funny, sporty, interesting even. She was _below par._

She was nothing, and she never would be.

"Hayley?" And there was Lily, knocking at the door. Knocking at the door, probably to shoo Hayley out so that Marlene could have a much needed shower, because heaven forbid that Hayley _ever have a problem_. Because that would be stupid and selfish of her, and there were more important things going on.

Hayley got to her feet. She smoothed down the blouse that hung off her boyish shape, splashed water onto her dull eyes and took a deep, calming breath.

"What is it?" She opened the door, smiling rigidly at Lily.

Lily, who James loved.

Lily looked back at her warily, those fantastic green eyes seeming to pinpoint all of her flaws and judging them.

"Is the bathroom free?" Lily asked, like Hayley being in it wasn't an valid occupation of it.

Hayley wanted to shout at her. She wanted to scream and tell her that no, the bathroom was obviously not free and if she used those pretty emerald eyes for something other than making James fall harder in love with her maybe she would see that Hayley was in there. Bitch.

"Yes, it's free," and Hayley stepped aside, because she could see Marlene's golden blonde hair sticking from the end of her bed, Mary's arms curled tightly around her chubby waist, the tears probably unable to dry.

And Hayley needed the safety of the room less.

The three girls bustled into the now vacant space, the door clicking shut behind them, and Hayley was left staring around her dormitory.

She ran her fingers over Lily's music collection, stacked neatly against the window; her foot brushed a few blusher brushes that had spilled off Mary's desk onto the floor; Marlene's books littered all of their shelves. They were so _different_, the three of them: Marlene so sombre and romantic, Mary ditzy and pretty, Lily level headed but passionate. Each of them with their own gorgeous individuality, stuck together because they liked what they saw.

What did they see when they looked at Hayley?

She turned to survey her bed, her own corner of the room – the closest to the door and the furthest from the window. Her bed, dressed in light blue, was neatly made; her clothes, neutral, safe colours, were tidied in her drawer; her desk was empty save of one standard quill, left haphazardly in case she remembered a homework; the walls around her section were bare; her secrets were locked away in the metal cube she had brought from her muggle step-mothers belongings, behind a combination that the others wouldn't guess.

Hayley had nothing.

Nothing _there_; she couldn't even blame the others for not knowing her, not _really_ knowing her: she'd never given them the opportunity.

One day, she would look back and realise that she was wrong – for she was completely and utterly wrong – but right then she was a young woman with too many insecurities, downtrodden and scared and vulnerable, and she believed her nastier subconscious.

Swallowing desperately against the hatred building up inside of her Hayley turned away from the sight – rushing from the scene that betrayed her so and out of the common room. The claustrophobia followed her down the corridors, echoing in her footsteps and rushing through her breath; it enveloped her.

She didn't pay attention to where she was going, and before long – having moved from the safety zone of the castle (namely, the well lit, well travelled areas that sensible students travelled during times of heightened tension) – ran straight into a solid figure.

The boy had long dark hair, messy but defined, and classically good features: high cheekbones, a straight nose, lips that could have been sculpted by cupid himself. His grey eyes sparked with rebellious fervour that gave Hayley a rush even as her heart swelled with the loathing towards his self-pity, also evident.

It took her a moment to realise she knew him.

"Black?" She asked the boy.

* * *

Will was crying again.

He was crying in that drizzling, groaning way that seemed rent from his soul, and it unnerved and annoyed Sirius in equal measures.

"Shut up would you?" He muttered, low enough that there was no chance of Will hearing.

James heard and sent Sirius a look that was mostly disappointed, "Don't you have Transfiguration to do?"

Sirius looked at his best mate in shock, with his head bent over the newspaper and all his homework neatly done on the desk. He was acting like _Remus_ and there were far too many oddities in the dorm right then for Sirius to feel at home.

He got up, slamming the door behind him although he wasn't angry.

He was uneasy, and he didn't know why (and that only added to the feeling).

Evans was doing something in the corner, but he didn't feel like talking to her, and though Kelt at least was laughing – he seemed to be the only one these days – Sirius wasn't in the mood to talk about Quidditch, which was the only thing he had in common with the lad. Sirius didn't want to flirt with fifth years, or read something, or do his homework a la James' suggestion.

Moodily, he stomped through the entrance hole ("There's no need to slam me, love!" "Fuck off."). Heading for the kitchens – what couldn't be cured by a good chunk of meat? – eh grumbled nonsensically about whatever came into his head – Will and Marlene, his mother, transfiguration – and when he arrived he felt marginally better.

"Bestler?" He called, peering over the tiny faces for sight of his favourite one. The elf in question – wrinkled surrounding his bright blue eyes and two central teeth missing as he bared them in a grin – trotted to his side, ushering him to a low stood near the edges of the ruckus that was the kitchens just before dinner.

"What can I do for yous, sir?" The old elf asked sagely, lighting the fire energetically and rushing off to fetch Sirius a firewhiskey.

Sirius sighed, "I don't really know."

He looked down at his drink and didn't want it; he glanced at the food being prepared and wasn't hungry; he though about teasing the elves and decided against it. Something was brewing in the pit of his stomach: something cold and dark and uncomfortable and he had yet to find a way to ease it.

"And where's Master James, today?" The elf wanted to know, bringing Sirius a steak – slightly rare, the way Sirius liked it – though Sirius had not asked for it.

"It's been a long time since the two of you have visited us, together," Bestler nattered on, turning his back to the young wizard nursing his alcohol in favour of a brief conversation with his second in command. "It does cheer Bestler up when sirs come to visit." He beamed at Sirius, evidently under the impression that such a statement would lift Sirius from his obviously dour mood.

Sirius smiled dryly, "Happy to oblige."

He ate several bites of the meat, drank most of the firewhiskey and stared sullenly around, tapping his foot against the wall incessantly.

It wasn't working.

If he had been honest with himself he would have known what he needed – what he had needed since the parchment had arrived that morning, bearing more hatred from his accursed parents and making him remember all over again the years of torment. The envelope – it didn't even address him by name, just S. - burnt his thigh through his pocket.

"Bye, Bestler!" He called to the busy elf, who acknowledged him with a toothy smile and happy wave, and headed upstairs by himself.

It wasn't a day he was supposed to meet Regulus, he knew that – they had an organised schedule, regular enough that they didn't forget yet discreet enough that no one became suspicious – but he was sure that the younger boy would not object, this once. He just needed _something_.

With a flick of his wand, he sent a miniature form of his patronus bounding through a wall to find his little brother and sat down to wait.

It wasn't long until Regulus appeared, hair tousled and eyes agitated, "What is it, Sirius?"

"Is it so wrong to want to see you?" Sirius asked, slightly hurt by the lad's obvious reluctance to see his brother.

Regulus grimaced, "Nothing, of course, but we have a schedule."

"To make sure that your _friends_ don't find out." Sirius spat out.

"Your friends, too!" Regulus defended himself, glaring in earnest now.

Sirius shook his hair out of his eyes, days worth of frustration pushing against his heart, but now he was on the back foot, "_My _friends wouldn't care," he retorted.

Regulus snorted, smirking in such a way that Sirius wanted to wipe it from his face – the letter seemed to tear more tantalisingly into his leg, a reminder of that smirk on someone else – "Right, you're telling me that James Potter wouldn't care that you're meeting up with Slytherins."

"_No_," Sirius insisted, but they could both hear the doubt in his voice and the smirk grew more pronounced as Regulus recognised his victory.

"So what did you want?" Regulus asked, not interested now that he had the upper hand.

Sirius shrugged, abruptly forgetting the near argument – and, incidentally, his doubt of his best mate, "I got a letter from our darling mother this morning," he confided.

Regulus raised a dark slash of an eyebrow, "How thrilling. Did she disown you and call you a disgrace?"

"Yes and yes, _again_," Sirius tried to joke about it.

Regulus looked away, apparently unimpressed.

"What?" Sirius asked, identifying the pout to Regulus' mouth as distaste.

"Nothing," Regulus lied blatantly.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, slightly amused by the feminist connotations he had with the lie, "Seriously, what?"

"_Seriousl_y -" Regulus began, but cut himself off with a violent shake of his head, "I'm going."

"_Regulus_." Sirius called his brother back, genuinely anxious about his odd behaviour.

"What?" Regulus shouted, whirling around and flinging his arms out to expose the expanse of his covered chest, "What do you want from me?" The question exploded over the corridor, ringing around them.

Sirius opened his mouth to reply, but found his words – his request of clarification – unable to leave because he _knew_ what Regulus meant, and they had been coming to this for a long time because it was impossible to pick both. There was no best of both worlds and there were no winners in a war.

Even those, like Marlene, who wanted nothing to do with it, found themselves with casualties.

Even those, like James, who could avoid it, found themselves fighting.

Even those, like Sirius, who had made their choice in concrete, found themselves unsure.

"Don't go back there." Sirius begged, taking a step towards the younger man.

Regulus' own grey eyes slid closed and he breathed deeply. As Sirius watched, his aching heart pounding in his throat, a slow smile stole of Regulus' face; a gentle, happy smile.

"No," Regulus replied simply.

It took a moment for Sirius to piece everything together, "No?"

"No." Regulus agreed amicably. His eyes opened, and they were clear of indecision.

"But -" Sirius began.

Regulus cut him off, "You don't get to decide for me Sirius. You left. You walked out of my life and you don't get to call the shots anymore."

Sirius chewed over that, "Regulus, don't do this just to spite me."

"I'm not," Regulus promised. "I'm doing this because it's _right_." He implored Sirius with a look, promising him the truth. "Sirius, you know it is. You _know_ that they aren't as deserving. It's well known: diluting magical blood makes impurities – that's why the number of squibs is on the increase."

Sirius shook his head, "That's bullshit, Reg."

"It's _not!_" Regulus seized Sirius arm, but Sirius yanked it away.

"They'll be _killed_, Regulus. People like Mary MacDonald and Lily Evans. They won't be allowed to _exist_."

Regulus was shaking his head now, "I don't want to kill them, Sirius. That's just the extremists talking. The Dark Lord recognises that that's impossible."

Sirius took a step away.

"We just want them to not take our magic anymore," Regulus expanded.

"We just want them separate from us." He finished, when Sirius failed to respond.

For a moment there was quiet, and then the single phrase rippling through Sirius mind fell out, "The Dark Lord _recognises that's impossible_." He bit out.

Regulus blinked at him.

"You don't understand how evil you sound, do you?" Sirius asked, calm flooding his system.

Regulus rolled his eyes, "I'm protecting my own, Sirius."

Sirius began to walk backwards, unable to rip his eyes from this stranger, "Don't call me Sirius. Don't call me brother. Don't call me _anything_ ever again. From now on I don't know you and I don't want to know you."

And he left Regulus – the grown bastard who looked a little like someone he used to know – calling his name.

He had known, of course. He had seen all the signs: the increased distancing, the shallower conversations, the steering around of any subject that could have any real importance to the world and anyone in it.

Equally, he was sure that Regulus hadn't always been like this: once, he had laughed more than Sirius. Once it had been Sirius cursing mudbloods that vehemently, and wishing that their plague would cease to spread, whispering dirty words into his brother's tiny ears and allowing the seeds of hatred to blossom. And Sirius had changed; had been saved.

Could he have saved Regulus?

The question – haunting – hung at the front of his mind, tormenting him, and he barely noticed the figure hurtling round the corner to collide with him: until it said his name.

"Black?" Hayley asked, rubbing her arm where it had made contact with Sirius' chest.

"Hello, Hayley," he greeted emotionlessly, sidestepping so as to make a quick exit.

Maybe if he'd been more involved in Regulus' life after he went to Hogwarts?

"Too good to talk to me?" Hayley spat at him, grabbing his arm and spinning him to face her.

Maybe if he'd stayed at home a little longer then-

Wait, what?

"What?" He asked Hayley, his dark eyebrows drawing in to demonstrate his confusion.

"You fucking well heard me!" Hayley shouted, flinging her arms out in a James-esque mannerism.

"Why would I be too good to talk to you?" Sirius asked, stepping away from her slightly and letting his hand drift towards his wand.

"Everyone else is!" Hayley glared, her brown eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

"What are you _talking about_?" Sirius shouted back, abruptly angry. He did not have time, patience or motivation enough for talking to stupid, insolent little girls who had probably never had anything more to worry about in their lives then not making the Quidditch team.

Could he have saved Regulus?

"_You!_" Hayley screamed, slapping his chest hard enough to make him stagger backwards. "All of you! You waltz around with your perfect little lives making me feel like shit all the time well guess what: you're not all that damn good!"

Sirius opened his mouth to jut in (no doubt with something incredibly imaginative and not at all said before such as, "what are you _talking about_?") but she wasn't finished.

"Like you, for instance: you have _no one_. Your family deserted you and your friends don't give a fuck."

"Shut up!" Sirius found his voice at last.

"Or what? You'll get your little brother to get me? Oh, wait, doesn't he hate-"

Later – much, much later, when they both had time to breath and think – both of them would blame themselves and, healthily, both of them would blame the other. At the time all there was was the rage. Sirius' fist slammed out, weaving into a handful of her brown locks and yanking it violently backwards so that it made contact with the marble wall behind her.

"Shut _up_!" He bellowed, his words masking the gasp of pain that came first from the stinging in her scalp where her hair was ripped from and then seconds as stars danced before her dazzled eyes.

She slumped to the floor, her legs unable to support her and her eyes rolled into her scull as she blacked out momentarily: all too soon she regained full consciousness and she felt the hurt and understood what had happened.

"Shit, Hayley," Sirius was already on the floor, his hands reaching for her tenderly and horror in his gaze.

She flinched away, wriggling her body along the wall until she backed into a suit of armour and could get no further away. Her terrified eyes met his guilty pair and they watched one another, both breathing hard.

"I'm so sorry!" Sirius told her, honestly, chancing a half step but immediately retreating when he saw panic cross her face.

"You're a monster." Hayley whispered, her slender fingers finding her throat, her jaw, then covering her mouth as a sob escaped.

"I'm so sorry!" He begged, crouching several metres away. His heart thudded angrily in his chest.

But Hayley was beyond consolation, tears falling rapidly and her legs hugged into herself. He could see a little blood on the nape of her neck, and the sight made him want to be sick.

"You're no better than them;" Hayley spat after him as he turned to go, "those Slytherins that attacked Mary. You're just the same: a bully. You _belong _with them."

Sirius began to walk again, denying her the justice her words would cause before the damage they did was irreversible.

It was too late.

"One day James will realise, too!" Hayley shouted through her sobs, "And then he'll leave you!"

Sirius didn't break his stride.

He was used to a broken heart.

* * *

"How's she doing?" James Potter's disjointed voice asked Lily, as his body took the available space on the stairs beside her. She was too tired to be startled, and she simply wiped her eyes one last time and turned towards him.

Her eyes were stunning, but he wasn't meant to be noticing things like that.

"She's not getting better," Lily told him, too weary to argue.

"She will," he promised, with such certainty that she feared she would begin to cry all over again.

"How do you know?" She hiccupped and then, somehow, she was buried in the crook of his neck with his bewildered arms around her. If he didn't answer it didn't matter to her because all she needed was a warm, solid body to keep her grounded for a little while.

He didn't answer, and it mattered to him because he knew that the reason was that how was he meant to discuss heartbreak with this beautiful, clever, funny, completely confusing witch who had taught him all about it. He didn't blame her; he just didn't quite forgive her either.

"I'm sorry," she said at last, pulling back.

(Had she noticed the increase in his heart rate?)

"Don't mention it," he muttered, clearing his throat and awkwardly dropping his arms back to their sides.

Lily wiped her eyes, sniffed once, glanced around and tried to think of something to say as the awkward silence dragged on around them. But really – what could they talk about? The weather was boring, they didn't have the same taste (as far as she guessed) in music, she didn't know much about Quidditch and he didn't read (she didn't think).

Even their surroundings were unambiguous: plain walls, uninteresting portraits, and there was no way that she was asking if the carpet in the boys' dormitory as scratchy as this one?

"How did you get up here, anyway?" She asked suddenly, struck by inspiration as her fingers trailed the red fibres.

James pretended not to hear her, humming a tune distractedly.

Lily rolled her eyes, "I will never understand how you get away with so much and are still an atrocious actor, Potter."

"You actually use words like atrocious?" James snorted, taking her and her long word in one contemptuous glance.

"What's wrong with atrocious?" Lily asked, mildly offended at his apparent lack of admiration for her skill with the English language.

James shrugged, "It's precocious."

"Precocious?" Lily echoed. "It's _precocious_." James nodded. "How is it _precocious_. _Precocious _is more precocious than atrocious!"

James, the twat, smirked, and it served to rile her further.

"Fine then, what un-precocious word would _you _use?"

James turned his head, cocking it and staring her straight in the eye (they really were nice eyes, they both thought), "Shit." He informed her, matter of fact, never breaking contact.

"Shit?" Lily asked, disbelieving.

"Shit." James clarified, satisfied.

"You want me to tell you you're a shit actor."

"Yes."

"You want me to use shit instead of atrocious."

"Yes."

"You want me to, rather than raise the level of intelligent conversation in this room by using clever words such as atrocious, use the word shit."

"...Yes."

"You're shit, Potter."

James laughed, fully and happily and from the depths of his toned stomach: the sound made Lily smile, it was so full of joy.

"Shut up," she muttered, her cheeks flaming though she couldn't have told anyone why.

James did so, albeit in his own time.

"So I wrote in to the paper," he began calmly.

It was Lily's turn to twist: folding her legs underneath herself and pressing her back against the wall as she waited for him to continue.

"About the werewolf thing," he clarified, and she nodded.

"I meant to," Lily admitted, "But things have been a little..." she waved a hand at the shut dormitory door to encompass all things awful currently underway.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"Do you think anything will come of it?" Lily asked him quietly, lacing her fingers together on her thigh.

James looked surprise, "Marlene and Will? Oh, I doubt they'll be apart for long and-"

"There werewolf petition." Lily cut in decisively. She could not think about Marlene and Will; she hurt too much.

"Oh," understanding settled across the young man's expression, "Well, the fact that there's a petition is a step in the right direction!"

Lily nodded absently, "I don't really know much about werewolves, to be honest. We never covered them." She looked at him, but he didn't meet her eyes, choosing instead to run both hands through his hair (_Merlin_, she hated him doing that) and then keeping them knotted behind his neck.

"My dad did some work with them a few years back," he explained his involvement.

Lily shrugged, "I wasn't prying, it makes no difference to me. The way I see it they didn't choose to get bitten."

The look in James' eyes made her look away again after she said that.

"I agree," he murmured simply.

Lily smirked, "Well, we had to agree on something, someday."

James chuckled, "Don't tell anyone."

Something in his voice – or maybe in her heart – caught Lily's attention in that: something that did not fit. "Why do you do that?" She asked, piecing something together.

His eyes were confused when they met hers (did they have _purple_ in them?) so she elaborated.

"Stick to your reputation like it's a lifeline. Pretend you're only some big guy who's good at sport and likes to cause trouble."

His eyes, abruptly alight, got closer as he leant in, "But Evans, I _am _some big guy who's good at sport and likes to cause trouble."

She slapped his arm lightly, "Shut up, twat, I meant why do you pretend that's all you are...?"

James moved away from her slightly, "Look, Evans, no offence, but you barely know me." His voice was polite to the point of impersonal.

It didn't deter Lily, "Honestly, James."

Maybe it was the use of his first name (he'd had _dreams_ that consisted entirely of those lips forming his name) and maybe it was because he needed to talk to someone.

"Sirius needs me to," he admitted.

Lily hadn't been expecting that, and the strange noise she made in the back of her throat summed up her confusion perfectly.

James might have smirked, had he been capable of amusement.

"He's..." he trailed off, "more fragile than me, if you can believe it."

Lily couldn't.

"He's not ready to change just yet." James elucidated.

Lily stared, "You're kidding, right?"

James shook his head loosely.

Lily opened her mouth; closed it again. She scrunched up her eyes and tilted back her head and breathed through her mouth, "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard anyone say, ever."

James blinked at her, "What?"

"Pardon." She corrected primly, before launching into her onslaught. "First of all: Sirius does not _need_ anything, except apparently to grow the hell up. Secondly: you are both well behind everyone else's maturity level and you have some catching up to do. Thirdly..." She took a deep breath, "You shouldn't hide behind Sirius as a mask for not doing what's right."

"I'm _not_." James interrupted heatedly, but she silenced him with a look.

"You _are_. And if you're _not_...then Sirius doesn't deserve you."

At that James actually leapt to his feet, towering above her, "Evans you don't have a clue what you're on about!"

"It's true!" She countered, rising to her own and then climbing a step to even out their heights.

"Have you _met_ Sirius?" James asked sarcastically. "We're talking about the boy who got straight O's in his OWLs without picking up a book. We're talking about the boy who _rejected_ being in the Quidditch team. We're talking about the guy brave enough to leave his entire family behind because he didn't believe what they did was right!" He ended his tirade, still staring at her with indignant disbelief on behalf of his friend.

Lily nodded, "Yes, that's the Sirius I'm on about, too. And I agree that he's incredible, if that's what you were getting at. But he's also immature, selfish and rude and, according to you, he's the reason you're that way. He's holding you back from developing and that makes him a bad friend. He doesn't deserve you."

Their voices tapered off for almost a full minute.

"Don't ever say anything like that again," James murmured, his voice laced with anger as he stared at the ground. "Don't you _ever_ say anything like that again." He turned on his heel, marching down the stairs, but words were leaping into his throat again.

"Sirius Black is the best friend I will ever have. He's the best friend _anyone_ will ever have. He's done things – made sacrifices – that are damn near impossible, and he still manages to get up every day and not only live life but live life to the fullest. You don't have a _clue_ Evans, so you can take your pious judging somewhere else because I'm done with you."

* * *

Sirius was sitting in the common room by himself – in the darkest corner usually inhabited by malleable first years who, in the five minutes since he had arrived, had cleared out sharpish. His fingers shook, but that was the only part of him that moved.

_He doesn't deserve you_, Lily's voice, so certain, rung through his head, stealing memories and thoughts and feelings until all that was left was a whole so wide that it hurt.

She had been talking about him, he had listened enough to know that: she had been talking about Sirius and James' friendship and she had found Sirius lacking.

The worse friend.

The unwanted friend.

The friend that, in the end, would be left behind.

He though of Hayley, and her crying; _he'll leave you_.

He thought of Lily; _he's a bad friend_.

_One day he'll realise._

_He'll leave you._

_He's immature, selfish, rude._

_He's holding you back._

_He's a bad friend._

_It's been a while since the two of you came in, together._

And, worst of all, James' silence when confronted with Lily's words – at which point Sirius had fled, unable to listen any more.

It hit Sirius hard and suddenly: he was losing James.

He was losing _James_.

The though sent a reel of panic through him to intense that he forgot how to breath; his hand scrabbled at his chest and tears filled his eyes briefly. He couldn't do this: he needed James with him, he needed to stop this happening before he lost this brother the same way he'd lost Regulus.

But how?

Somehow, he needed to stop these...stories from spreading; these opinions of them being tainted before James heard them and began, too, to believe.

He would have to talk to Bestler, at some point; but that one didn't strike Sirius as particularly urgent: James paid little attention to house-elf gossip, and was too hard headed to notice the slight sentence used earlier.

The thought of Hayley (she had _blood on her neck_) made Sirius feel physically ill.

And, anyway, who else would it be but Evans.

Perfect Prefect Lily Evans, who had wormed her way into James' heart and then broken it, and was now urging James to break off his relationship with Sirius.

It was always going to be Lily Evans.

Sirius got to his feet, understanding with a brilliant moment of clarity what he had to do. It even fit, really; it was like fate.

He would teach Lily a lesson, and he would do it in such a way as to get revenge on her also for breaking James' heart.

Without noticing, Sirius strode across the common room.

And there she was now: coming down the stairs because she was _destined_ to be there, wasn't she, because this was some higher plan and Sirius had every right because it would fix everything.

This would drive her and James apart, and he would be unable to hear her lies about Sirius.

This would teach her to break people's heart.

Without thinking, so without hesitation, Sirius flicked a hand to the back of Lily's startled head and brought his lips down over hers.

Silence fell.

* * *

**There you go! Feel free to abuse me in reviews, I promise that this is the worst of it! Opinions please on the Lily/James interaction, because there's quite a bit more coming and I need to know how to play it.**

**Thankyou! Reviews are always welcome! ~Meli  
**


	9. A Missed Break

**Okay, so I've changed the story around a bit quite a lot (not that you would know, everything I've changed happened in the future) and I've completely deleted a whole two sections between the last chapter and this one, because it was just too angsty. Tell me what you think, I hope you enjoy it! Massive gratitude to Lessa, who helped me decide what to edit into this, hope it makes more sense now!**

* * *

July

Only minutes ago, things had been fine. Not great: Sirius was angry, the weather was bad and James Potter – on his way to find his best friend to rant about what the girl he was unfortunately in love with had done this time – was struggling to find the right words. Nothing was unforgivably horrendous, they didn't think. Things could be fixed...well, not everything (Remus had just glanced up and glimpsed the nearly full moon dejectedly), but even those things seemed less grave than they might.

Everyone had each other, and that was enough for now.

Sirius kissed Lily – his lips fervent but cold against hers, his hand holding her withdrawing head firmly in place. His tongue forced into her astonished mouth.

Remus saw them and he understood. Not Sirius' actions, and he didn't even think on the way that Lily stood limply. He understood, simply, that things were going to change. The moon peeked out from behind the curtain of clouds, and Remus' teary eyes flew to it because he would so much rather see that...

Sirius stepped away.

Lily stared at him, "What the hell?"

Sirius' handsome face was impassive – there was ice there, but not much else. She would reckon that he'd enjoyed the kiss as little as she had. So why?

Sirius dealt her a dirty look, but turned away smoothly, facing the crowd of astounded Gryffindors.

It was strange: the level to which they all understood. Not all of them saw it as Remus did – the end of an era – and most of them didn't quite reach Peter – Prongs will go mental – but they all got it. Lucy's mouth was open in unobstructed fury, Kelt had turned his back, the three first years huddled closest took a step away and waited numbly until the silence was over and one could ask, "Isn't that James' girl?"

The portrait hole clicked closed.

"Yeah, what the hell?" James asked.

His voice was low, shaky; his eyes were fixed calmly on Sirius. His hair fell easily all over the place, his right hand was in his pocket and his left curled gently against his thigh. His head tilted to one side. He smiled, just a little.

Sirius shrugged, "You're better off without, mate."

And, as though he hadn't just ruined _everything_, he pushed past James, their shoulder's brushing slightly, and left.

For a moment, everything held still; a fragile web bound Gryffindor together: they looked at James, James looked back and no one knew quite what to say.

"Lily, she's..." Mary's voice – trembling with exhausted emotion – limped down the stairs just ahead of her slumped figure; her body froze, taking in the scene and – accustomed as she was by then to loss – she stopped talking.

Too late; the spell was broken.

"James, I..." Lily began tremulously, but James was already turning away, head bowed, hands clenching into fists and opening the door.

"Shit," Remus muttered, making a dash for the door ahead of the crowds, pulling Lily back as he did so. After his friends, he leapt through the gap in the wall, utterly focused.

Peter, slower, took the time: "Don't!" Both hands flung up before him to stop the onlookers in their tracks. The gossip hounds made sounds of disappointment, Ellie took a step forwards anyway and was halted by a look. "Leave them." Peter ordered, his heart pulling him out of the room but knowing he had to make them understand. "Go to bed," he begged, finally; without waiting to see if they did so, he hurried away.

James' back was just turning the end corner, Remus' closer to his than Peter's as he silently followed; Peter set off in a similar run after the trio.

Sirius was just ahead of James now, and as James continued to walk towards him he turned, grinning.

"What did you think?" He called to his advancing friend, a manic smile fixed upon his beautiful, beloved, heartbreaking face. "It was _mental_!" He held his hands out to the side, offering his heart to James.

James took advantage: without breaking stride, he through his whole weight behind the punch. The bones in his hands cried in pain, a shock through him, as the splintered; he felt his friend's rib give way until finally, it broke; then Sirius flew away, crashing to the ground at the force.

"Hey!" Remus called, sprinting to reach James.

"Leave!" James roared, stopping the young werewolf in his tracks with his anger – he cradled his broken hand automatically, and his eyes were wild.

"James," Remus placated, "just think-"

"What the hell?" Sirius shouted, staggering to his feet and clutching his sides.

James abandoned Remus, spinning back around, "What the hell?" He agreed, screaming at the other boy, taking a step forwards and his other – unbroken hand – connecting with Sirius' nose. Blood spurted under James' fingers – which managed to remain unbroken – and again Sirius hit the floor. "What the hell?" He bellowed again, and Sirius rolled away, getting to his feet and taking a swing that connected with the side of James' head, breaking the side of his glasses clean in two.

"Alright, you two!" Remus tried again, stepping forwards to grab James' rising bicep.

James shook him off, "Get away, Remus!" He ordered, as Peter reached them.

Sirius tackled him, and the two watchers sprang to the sides as the teenagers flew between them, hitting the ground hard.

Straddling James' thighs Sirius glared down, "What do you think you're doing?" He asked furiously.

"What the _fuck_?" James replied, and all of the strain on his voice robbed it of its confidence: hoarse, shaky, he begged for an answer.

"What?" Sirius asked, confusion laced in him. He released James' body and they got to their feet. James sent Remus a gentle look, and he crossed over quickly. They stood together for a second.

"Please." James asked, and his uninjured hand briefly grabbed Remus' in supplication. Remus touched his face, eyes miserable.

"I'm sorry," Remus whispered, and left, taking Peter with him.

"I don't understand." Sirius said quietly, looking from the two retreating backs back to James. His fingers brushed his best mate's shoulder, but James shrugged off and turned to face him.

Nothing scared Sirius so much as that expression: the death in his eyes, swimming in tears.

"How could you?" James asked quietly, his words not an accusation but an explanation. When Sirius didn't reply – he didn't even think he was supposed to – James continued, "How are you meant to understand, Sirius?"

"What's happened?" Sirius asked, desperately.

"You happened." James replied easily. "Why did you kiss her?"

Sirius stared, "This is about _Evans_?"

James nodded.

Sirius rolled his eyes, "That's ridiculous! James, she's just some bird! Hot, yeah, but not anything important!" He laughed. "Shit kisser, too."

James' breath came in trembling sobs, his hand covering his mouth and the tears escaping to roll down his cheeks. He scrubbed them away furiously. He didn't want...this guy that wasn't his Sirius to see him crying.

"Do you remember when I first asked her out?" James asked, smiling a little through his shaking breaths.

Relieved, Sirius grinned back. "Yeah. You said you didn't care."

James heaved a little laugh, "That's right. What bullshit, eh?"

Sirius nodded, giggling in that way only Sirius could pull off. It hurt James' heart to hear.

"And last year, after Snape?" He prodded.

Sirius nodded again, "You told me you loved her." His voice was more sober now; he swallowed, and didn't meet James' eyes.

For the first time until he'd thought of his plan, he realised that perhaps...

Perhaps this would hurt James.

"So, tell me," James began, eyes like lint, "why the hell you would do this?"

"She was never good enough for you." Sirius said finally.

"Why?"

"It wasn't like anything had ever happened." Sirius defended.

"Why?"

"James, you're over reacting!" Sirius insisted.

"WHY?" James bellowed, all pretence of casual suddenly lost; spit flew, because in real life fights were not dignified shouting matches. People messed up their words, and looked uglier than usual, and spat and wept and made noises no one would remember in the end.

Sirius had no answer, and they both knew it.

He just sometimes did things.

"I didn't think." Sirius whispered.

"Did you not?" James latched onto that. "Well, here's what I think. I think that, after having been by best mate for six years, you should have known better. I think that, as the guy who I came to every time I needed to talk about her, you should perhaps have thought about it. I think that if you cared at all you might have remembered every single fucking tear I've _cried_ over her. _Cried_. Actually fucking tears because I _love _her, Sirius. I love her and it _hurts_ that she doesn't love me, too. But I never gave up because I figured that she might change her mind. And I got the hell on with things but that never changed. It didn't change that my heart beats faster when I think about her, or that I think about her _all the fucking time_." His voice became even quieter: so quiet that Sirius could barely hear it (nevertheless, every syllable dropped into his heart and exploded there like shrapnel). "You knew that, though; didn't you? You knew all that and you kissed her anyway. You want to know what I think? I think that if you don't think about something like your _best friend's heart_, you don't deserve him."

"I never meant to hurt you." Sirius promised, and he gripped James' hand fiercely.

James looked down at their interlocked fingers, "I know that."

The two Gryffindor's stood in silence for a minute. James' head rolled back to stare glassily at the ceiling, Sirius' mouth pinched down; their hands remained touching – they both knew it was the last time they would get this and goddamit if they were going to lose one another they were getting this minute.

"Don't do this?" Sirius asked finally. "Please? Don't let your feelings for her get between us."

James withdrew his fingers, and when he looked back at Sirius there was nothing but the cold, hard finality of hatred. He smirked – a smirk Sirius had seen directed thousands of times at the unfortunates that did not bask in James Potter's approval, but never had put upon himself, "You still don't get it." He scoffed.

Sirius shook his head.

"You didn't hurt me because I love Lily..." James growled out, and once again the anger switch seemed to have been flicked because he shook with it. "You hurt me because I loved you, and you broke my heart."

When he turned on his heel and went, Sirius stood for a long time in the empty, marble corridor: sinking to his knees and allowing the cold stone to stiffen his joints long past pain into numbness.

He wondered why the rest of him wouldn't stop hurting.

In the forest – far away where no one else could discover him (he had no one to show, now; that right had been taken from him) – James too sank to the floor, and cried.

* * *

September

With bated breath, the train seemed to wait for them. The things the train must have seen, over the years; above all, it understood its passengers, ached and cried for each petty pain, laughed along with the harmless jokes, hoping for each and every one of them. Oh, they didn't know how it watched – even for a magical world, they were adorably clueless to how intensely they were protected from harm – but it watched nonetheless .

Now, it waited. The first of September was always an important day for the train: the day it gained a hundred new students, the day that it re-found those who had been gone an eternity. And it gleamed, the same as ever – from the inside out, beaming with excitement.

James Potter was the first to arrive – parentless, as he had been every year; but this year there was something different.

Firstly, that he was the first to arrive – normally, he was to the latter end of the spectrum, dawdling through the passage and surveying his kingdom with pride. Today, he was over an hour before they were scheduled to depart.

More importantly: he had magic jammed into his ears, robes already on, eyes fixed firmly on the ground. There was no hidden smile inside of him, no dancing in his eyes, no friends to greet him and to be greeted. This James Potter was an entirely new creature, and the train's roaring coal heart went out to him as he mounted the train and went to the first compartment, rolling his legs into his chest and allowing his head to lean against the opposite window as he, with the train, waited.

* * *

"But what if it's not okay?" Mary asked, for the fourth time since they had departed her house twenty minutes ago. Her shell pink lips were worried by her teeth, her big brown eyes firm on her shorter friend, filled with anxious compassion and, despite herself, a vindictive pride.

"It will be!" Reginald assured, taking her hand gently and squeezing before releasing her and backing away a step. She didn't notice – her mind filled with thoughts of what could be over there.

She could see Hogwarts students swarming through the platform, vanishing into the brickwork meticulously and she would give anything to be one of them: heading towards the happiness. Truth be told, Mary was not one of them – her happiness wasn't at Hogwarts any more, it was in the past. It was in the summer before this one, without any of the worries and with someone more than Reginald – and she was eternally grateful for all he'd done for her, but dammit she got lonely sometimes.

"Thank you for looking after me," she dropped a kiss onto his cheek, turning away before she saw it stain pink.

"You're welcome," Reginald choked after her retreating, determined back.

The familiar press of bricks, cool in the strange September heat, surrounded her, and in a breath Mary emerged into the bustle of Hogwarts life, shrugging on her persona with ease; her jaw came up, her eyes clocked all, her lips pursed teasingly. Mary MacDonald was a mistress of disguise, and nothing could surprise her right then.

Except, perhaps, Marlene and Sirius, bodies pressed tight together in that corner there.

Or Hayley and Lily, looking for all the world like best friends.

Or Reginald's hand, brushing her waist as he steered her forwards.

She dealt with the most immediate first, turning to stare at him with startled eyes, which he shrugged off shyly, releasing her and levitating her bags onto the train without making eye contact.

"Reginald..." Mary tried to begin, as she had tried all summer long and found herself unable to continue. She just didn't have the words to tell him his friendship meant more to her than anything, that she was scared, that she just wasn't ready.

"Thanks," she muttered ungraciously instead, shame colouring her voice into displeasure.

"Mary!" Hayley interrupted them, reaching her best friend's side eagerly, wrapping her thin arms around Mary's larger torso.

"Hiya, Sweetie!" Mary squealed into Hayley's hair – God, there was so much of it – with sincere enthusiasm. Hayley might be a sarcastic cow most of the time, but she was Mary's best friend and closest confidant; Mary had missed her terribly.

"Where have you _been_ all summer?" Hayley asked, half accusing half forgiving, drawing back to take in the minutiae of the changes in the other brunette. In the several shades darker skin she read France, in the slight tightening in the eyes she saw loneliness. "I called." She defended herself guiltily. She _had _called...for the first two weeks. And if she had given up after then, then could you blame her? After the way last year had ended, everyone needed their space...

"France, for a bit," Mary informed, faux cheerfully. She left out the other five weeks, sitting at home with little or no company. Could you blame her? After the way last year had ended, she needed her space.

"You look great!" Hayley promised her, but her voice was devoid of the usual envy, and this in particular made Mary look closer. Hayley was radiant: her hair gleamed, her tiny frame buzzed with energy, her lips curved in a full and beautiful grin – eyes passing over them hesitated on her, and she didn't even notice. There was only one explanation:

"Who is he?" Mary gripped Hayley's arm, falling back into the familiar pattern of girl-talk (though she could never have guessed she'd have this particular conversation with this particular dorm-mate; ever since she could remember Hayley was hung up on...it couldn't be...no, that was ridiculous!).

Hayley blushed, but her smile only grew.

"He's great!" Lily enthused, from her before-silent place discreetly beside them.

Mary shot her a half irritated, half confused look: she had always got on with Lily – really, it was hard not to – but Hayley was Mary's property, and if she was honest she was a little superior at how the other girl had never warmed to the ginger dorm mate. Yet here was Lily, only a month or two after ripping the school apart, knowing things about Hayley Mary didn't and as beautiful , calm, relaxed, as always. Dismissing her, Mary looked back to Hayley, who for a moment faltered at the coldness between the pair.

"He's called Kingsley," Hayley began, her hesitation falling away...

* * *

"_It's ridiculous!" Hayley groaned, nearly through tears, pushing the strands of hair escaping her bun behind her ears, knocking back the shot of some alcohol that had been placed in front of her and immediately requesting a refill._

"_Take it easy," the stranger suggested, but made no move to stop her from similarly downing her drink._

"_It'll get better," Lily assured, but the girl had similar doubt in her voice._

_On Hayley's other side, Peter snorted, "Well, you obviously don't know James very well." It was said with undertones of condemnation that none of them missed._

"_It's not Lily's fault, Peter," Hayley sighed, taking her third drink slower. The words burned as much as the alcohol in the back of her throat, but she still knew they were true._

"_James Potter, right?" The other guy asked, dark brow puckered in confusion._

_No one answered._

"_Another?" Tom asked Hayley kindly, grinning at her toothlessly. God, she loved him for it – kindness (and she never thought she'd say it) was all that she wanted right then._

"_Yes, please." Lily requested, hopping up onto an emptied stool._

"_No, I'm off," Peter informed, climbing down from his own and, with a sad little wave, heading towards the grill. His directions told to the Floo powder were carried away in the bustle of the midday drinkers, and no one was paying attention anyway._

"_Is your eye ok?" The man asked – and Hayley could vaguely recollect that he had asked once before, and she had ignored him._

"_Fine," she muttered, rubbing the bruise in question. James hadn't meant to clip her with his hand, after all. He had been...distracted._

"_Is Peter right?" Lily asked abruptly, turning to her drinking companions sadly. "Is this my fault?" Her pouty lips trembled, green eyes filled with tears._

_Hayley wanted to slap her._

"_Don't be stupid," she criticised instead. "You're not that important." It gave her some sense of relief, to belittle her rival. Her fingers began to carve something absently into the words._

"_It was him kissing me that did this." Lily reminded her quietly._

_Slamming her hand down, "Yes. _He_ kissed _you_, not the other way round. So stop over thinking this. This is just a petty little fight, and it'll be over before we know it and they'll be back to the usual, causing mayhem, getting trouble..."_

"_Annoying the hell out of me." Lily finished quietly, and Hayley gawped at her. That couldn't be regret in her voice, could it? That couldn't be hope?_

"_I'm off," Lily mimicked Peter's earlier words, finishing her drink and putting several coins on the bar to be swept away by Tom moments later._

_Hayley didn't watch her leave._

"_So," Hayley jumped, having forgotten about her third companion, "Let me get this straight: that girl – Lily? – got kissed by the boy that wasn't James Potter, and James got angry about it because...he's close to the other boy?"_

_Hayley turned angry eyes on the meddling stranger, "Who _are _you?" She demanded, eyes narrowing as she gave him a sweeping once over. He had rich, dark skin – much darker than hers, and the contrast was striking as their hands lay side by side on the bar – and serious, calming eyes; his voice – she had noticed that much at least – was like honey over gravel; and he was _wide, _in a well built, muscular sort of way._

"_Sorry," he intoned, "Kingsley Shacklebolt." He extended her hand, and she took it._

"_Hayley."_

"_So I gathered." She sent him a questioning look and he filled her in, "That's what Potter called you, after he punched you."_

"_It wasn't like that!" She defended resolutely, her dislike for the character growing._

_Kingsley hesitated, "No," he conceded, "but nevertheless, I didn't like it."_

_Hayley swallowed, "Neither did I."_

_She knew she should be getting home, that she had work to catch up on; and she felt like a good, long broomstick ride – so high up that the cold numbed her muscles and everything stopped hurting. But for some reason, Hayley stayed there, exchanging information, jokes, with the older man, and at the end of the evening, in the cold outdoor air with the moon clear and bright above them, he kissed her._

* * *

"That's freaking adorable!" Mary nearly cheered, clapping her hands together and hopping up and down, childish appreciation leaking from every pore in her.

"Shhh," Hayley urged, but she looked overjoyed anyway.

"And then what?" Mary pressed, lips curved into a static smile as she begged for more details. If anyone needed any more evidence that she had been deprived of human contact, they had received it.

Hayley shrugged, "We've been seeing each other all summer – he'd come to mine, or we'd meet after work. You'd have met him if you arrived ten minutes ago!" She nudged her friend teasingly.

Briefly, Mary thought of the quarter of an hour spent dithering outside and cursed herself internally; she fixed a smile onto her face.

"And what's his job?"

It was the wrong question to ask: Hayley's happiness dipped slightly, the white flash of her teeth disappeared and her eyes trained on something over Mary's shoulder. "He's an Auror," she admitted reluctantly.

"That's hot!" Mary encouraged, startled by the change and looking to Lily for reassurance, but the redhead had vanished, as had Reginald.

Hayley smiled a little, but still looked miserable, "Look, I'll catch up with you later, yeah? I'm sure you have stuff to tell me, too..." She backed away quickly, leaving Mary not quite sure what went wrong.

The nervous guilt subsided slowly as she relaxed into the cool air of the shadow of the train, taking a moment to herself (though God knows she'd had enough for a life time).

"Mary?" Marlene asked behind her, and although Mary had known this would come she was still surprised by the blonde.

Marlene looked...taller - she had lost weight, for one, and seemed more at ease with herself and more aware at the same time. She smiled timidly, but without apology or awkwardness; she kept hold of Sirius' hand tightly – and he did smile awkwardly.

"Hello, Marlene, Sirius." Mary smiled back, and the duo relaxed at the wry tone in her voice. Wry wasn't hatred, they all knew, and it was always good to have an ally. This thought spurred Mary to say more: "Just so you know, I'm on their side."

This last was directed as Sirius rather than Marlene – what were they even doing together? – and he accepted the judgement easily, releasing Marlene and making his exit silently. Marlene didn't watching him go, though Mary did with some confusion.

"What's going on?" She asked finally, turning to the blonde tiredly.

Marlene's pale blue eyes fell to the ground, and she slumped to the side, "He helps, that's all."

Mary raised a condescending eyebrow, asking non verbally for Marlene to sort her act out and reply properly.

Marlene complied: "On the train back, last year...well, we'd both. We both lost someone we loved and... Sirius, he... We both needed some comfort, that's all..." She dragged herself through awkwardly, finding it hard to explain. It was just something she _got_, something she _needed_, and if Mary didn't understand that...who would?

"You're what...sleeping together?" Mary tried to make sense of it, piecing together the pieces and inexplicably angry at the thought of Marlene with anyone except...well, Will.

Marlene nodded, jaw high in defiance.

Mary nearly punched her, she was that upset, and Marlene saw it, "That bad?"

All Mary could do was nod. How was she meant to explain that some things were just not meant to happen: no matter what the circumstances were. She felt Marlene's betrayal to Will like a physical attack, and she swallowed down her disappointment in her friend bitterly.

"Do you like him?" She asked, rather than vocalise this – it was a little early in the year, after all, to begin fueds.

Marlene shrugged, "Would you believe it if I told you no?"

Mary shrugged, "Not really." Though she had fair-to-very-high experience with men, and relations of the type Marlene was describing, she had at least _liked_ them all.

Marlene tried to explain, "He didn't...he didn't suggest it like that. I burst into tears half way through shouting at him on the train, and he told me to find an emotional outlet...after everything. And I wasn't going to talk to him, but I was so lonely and I thought that...well, he was so lonely, too. So when I saw him in Diagon Alley we started talking and..."

Mary raised her eyebrow, again.

* * *

_It was not a sight Marlene was comfortable with: Sirius Black, drinking alone at eleven in the morning, hair unwashed and angry looking. His graceful hands arched around the liquid – firewhiskey, Marlene would bet – and his face stared down into it pensively._

_She hadn't expected to see anyone from school here – she had come this way only to escape the gloom of her house (memories lurking dangerously around every corner) and had wandered into the unknown parts of Diagon Alley to continue that comfort. Yet here Sirius was: ushering in thoughts of Will and thoughts of the end of the year, both to be avoided._

_Unfortunately, he saw her before she managed to duck out._

_The flash of upset on his face surprised her feet into staying still. Why would he have any reason to not want to see her?_

"_McKinnon," he greeted, surly. The scarred, limping barman tried to make his way over, but Sirius waved him away, clearly unwilling for her to sit down._

"_Black," she growled back, sitting just to spite him. He deserved it._

_Something in the way that Sirius' face collapsed into sadness, into the weariness that filled Marlene, struck a chord within her, and she wished she were back out in the unbearable heat of the summer rather than stuck in this hole of pain._

"_How are you?" She asked, because she wanted someone to tell her how she was._

_He glared at her, "I don't want to talk to you."_

"_I don't want to talk to you either," she shot back, "I just want to curl up into a ball and cry, but I can't do that anymore." Despite her words, tears seemed to fill her eyes and she pushed away angrily, spinning away from her fellow Gryffindor._

"_Did you find that outlet?" He called her back, and, with one hand on the creaking door, she looked at him._

"_Did you?" She asked, retaking her seat. This time, when the barman appeared, Sirius took out a few coins._

"_Alcohol." He told her dryly._

_Marlene rolled her eyes, "How healthy."_

"_Don't knock it 'til you've tried it," he parroted the Muggle saying, mockingly, and she smiled a little._

"_I'd rather not," she told him, and he shrugged his acceptance of that._

_It was something she'd always admired about Sirius – the way he just didn't push people. They might not do what he did, but he didn't care; he had the strangest group of mixed friends, and he had never slammed anyone for disagreeing with him. Perhaps it was because he was more tolerant than most; more likely it was because he himself knew how it was to change your mind so fast your head span._

"_Why did you kiss her?" Marlene asked, fixing her eyes on his._

_Sirius flinched, staying silent._

"_I broke up with Will because we want different things," Marlene spilled. "He wants to fight, and I want to run. And ...he shouldn't have to fight, you know? I'm the Muggle-born. And he was keeping secrets. And it hurt to love him." She shrugged, pretending it didn't still kill her to think of._

_Pretending that she didn't still consider them together._

_Pretending that she believed one day she would be over him._

_She looked to Sirius for his side of the story, waiting patiently for him to bare his heart as she had hers._

"_It seemed the only way." He told her finally._

_Strangely, that was all she needed to hear._

"_I've had an idea about that outlet," she informed him, and when he looked up at her she kissed him._

* * *

Mary was not impressed, but she understood.

"Oh, Marlene..." She sighed, wrapping her arms around the blonde. "Are you happier now, though?"

Marlene's head fit into the slender curve of Mary's neck, and Mary could feel the moisture of a single tear as her little blonde friend shook her head. Mary's heart wrenched, and she could hold a grudge no longer.

"Hey, I love you." She promised, linking their fingers as Marlene pulled away.

"I'm not happier now." Marlene admitted, answering the earlier question. "But...I'm ready to try, now. I can wake up in the morning."

Mary kissed her cheek, gesturing her onto the train, following her into the busy central corridor.

"I love you, too." Marlene whispered, hugging her friend once more. "I need to go and find Lily, right now, though." Mary nodded her understanding, letting Marlene go.

It was just all so convoluted: how had they come to this? Did a single one of them have absolutely no problems? ...Remus and Peter, it seemed right now. Apart from, of course, their two best friends were warring.

Hefting her case into her arms, Mary did a quick mental inventory of where Reginald could be: she had some things to get off her chest. He had told her once that he normally sat in a compartment to the rear of the train, with a few of his dorm-mates, but she knew he wouldn't object to switching to be alone with her.

She had taken one step before hurtling to a stop.

James was by himself.

It was only by luck that she'd seen him: there was a slight gap between the edges of the curtains hiding him from view, and a deserted Prefect's cabin was hardly where you would expect to see the infamous James Potter, unless he was up to some sort of mischief. Which, judging by his dour expression and the something connected to his ears actually pulsing with noise, was not what was happening.

Mary hesitated – she could admit it at least; she _really_ didn't want any more emotion right now – but James Potter was all by himself, and that was too momentous for her to honestly consider walking away.

He looked at her expressionlessly as she walked in.

"What's that?" She gestured to his earpiece, causing him to - with a huff – remove it.

"What's that?" She asked again, voice gentle.

"Experimental magical device that lets you play whatever song you can remember." James told her, inflectionless.

Mary nodded awkwardly, "Cool."

They sat in silence.

"Where's Remus?" Mary asked finally.

"Was there something you wanted?" James asked at the same time.

Neither replied, so Mary dove in with a new question: "Why are you in here?"

He tapped the badge on his chest as a reply, but it took her several seconds to understand, "Is that..." her voice trailed off in disbelief. It couldn't be. This was just one of those things that could not, in any conceivable way, happen. It was ludicrous. It was insane. It was also ludicrous.

"Head Boy." James clarified, with no enthusiasm.

That snapped Mary back to the present, "Oh, Jesus, Potter. Be more annoyed about an opportunity everyone else would be thrilled at, why don't you?"

James raised an eyebrow, apparently unaffected by her derision, "Who do you think Head Girl is?"

That was all it took for Mary to understand. Lily. Of course, it would always be Lily.

"Dumbledore has a sick sense of humour." She told him firmly, apology laced through her tone. James hummed an agreement, picking up the newspaper that he had put down as she entered.

"What are you going to do?" Mary pressed, undeterred by his obvious reluctance to talk.

"What _can_ I do?" James countered, without looking at her. "I'll treat them – her – the same as ever."

Mary got to her feet, "You know, I haven't seen anyone this holidays and I thought it was a bad thing, but hearing everyone else's stories makes me realise that I got lucky."

James looked away.

"He didn't want to hurt you." Mary promised him, sending a little lifeline in his direction that he could reach for if he tried.

James met her eyes coldly, "So?"

The train set off for Hogwarts with a heavy heart.

The reckless enthusiasm of the younger children – it knew all their deepest desires and greatest wishes already – was balanced and overcome by the elder few.

It could feel every one of them: a boy and a girl, trying so hard to understand; two boys who had been deserted; two girls trying to work out their differences; a girl whose happiness centred around fear; three boys...who had lost everything they ever wanted.

The train cried tears of smoke into the clear sky, mourning them all.

* * *

_James stalked through the entrance to Diagon Alley and instantly knew he'd made a mistake. She was there: he just knew it. The flash of red hair, taunting him, could only be her; the lull in the flow of conversation could only mean they had seen him. He continued on without looking around. If he saw her – truly saw her – he was scared he would break._

_Pushing open the door, the wave of July heat hit him like a wall, nearly making him double back if it weren't that what was behind was so much worse._

_Why was everyone looking happy around here?_

_He would get his mother a present and leave, and that was all there was to it: he wasn't dawdling through the shops, he wasn't making any effort more than he had to. God knows, he didn't even normally buy her a present, but this year his Dad – for some unknowable reason – had insisted. Whatever._

_He rushed into the shop, moved quickly to the till to pay and was on his way out just as quickly. It had stretched on interminably._

_Mind already focused on the bottle of amber liquid, magically able to hold far more than its fair share, James didn't look when as he stepped out onto the cobbled street._

_You could consider it strange, that the first thing James recognised was the _feel _of Sirius' body, but only if you didn't know James. Because a sad truth about James Potter was that he had very little human contact in his life: growing up in a big old house by himself, his parents often absent, it was just something that had never occurred to him. He could recall only a handful of times that his mother had embraced him, and couldn't even remember his father's touch – aside from a handshake. And when he had joined Hogwarts...they had become the type of friends that hug, himself and Sirius. Starved of tender touch, they had taken every opportunity to throw their arms around one another (in a very heterosexual, manly way of course); Remus and Peter had never been the same, really, though he hadn't shied away from their embraces, either. And it wasn't like he would mistake it for a _girl's_ body, was it?_

_The second thing was the scent, and it hit him like a punch to the gut: a thousand memories cleansing his mind of coherent thought ("Merlin's sake, Pad's, it stinks in here! Clean out you're stuff!" "You clean out my stuff!" "Don't make me come over there!" "Don't think I won't lick you"._

_The final, concrete thing was that expression: and how it seemed tied tightly to an organ in James' chest that, even though he knew it wasn't actually responsible for his emotions, suddenly lurched painfully._

"_James," Sirius breathed._

_Honestly, James didn't even realise he meant to – the first thing he knew was Sirius flying away and the stinging, lashing pain exploding down his arm from his knuckles. And about then he realised that he had set out that day with the intention of doing just that._

"_Don't you...don't _ever_..." James tried to verbalise his feelings, choking up in a cocktail of fury and hurt and desperation._

"_James!" Someone was screaming at the edge of their bubble, and James took a moment to look Marlene over: messy hair and bruised lips and horror. Understanding kicked in and, with it, a cold, hard rage that frightened him slightly._

"_Okay, I guess I deserve that," Sirius was saying, getting to his feet._

_James looked from Marlene back to Sirius, slowly, "You just can't help yourself, can you?"_

_The look of guilt on Sirius' face only made him angrier: dammit he had no right to feel guilty, there was no emotion that could make James forgive him and he didn't believe for a second that Sirius understood what he'd done wrong._

"_You're just programmed to ruin lives, aren't you?" James mocked, taking a daring step into Sirius' personal space, teeth bared in an ugly grimace. "You..." he looked his ex-best mate up and down slowly "and the rest of your evil family, you're all the same."_

_This time, when he hit Sirius, Sirius hit him back._

_And God, it felt good._

_Two hands seized James's shoulders, pulling him back sharply, and he whirled around to shout at them to back the fuck off – one of his flying fists made contact with Hayley's face, and it snapped away from him sharply._

"_Shit, Hales!" He crouched beside her on the floor, tenderly cupping her jaw to inspect the damage, touching the purple colouring gently._

"_It's fine," she ground out, and her eyes met something over James' shoulder._

_Lily's hand came up to touch Sirius' split lip so slowly – each centimetre a knife to James' poor bruised heart, and she soothed away the blood on it as it curved into a grateful smile._

_James turned back to Hayley, trying to find words to explain._

"_I know," she whispered. "Go."_

_And James did so, pushing through the dispersing crowd desperately, unable to make sense of the images crowding his mind._

* * *

**There ch'are! Hope that it kind of made sense, put it in a review if it didn't, or if you think the middle sections should be added in, or if you have anything else to say. What do we think about the Marlene/Sirius pairing?**

**Hope you enjoyed it ~Meli**


	10. Some things never change

**Okay, sorry it's been a while, I've been swamped with schoolwork even though we're on holidays. This is only really a filler chapter so that the next one makes more sense, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Leave a review!**

* * *

James couldn't pretend that he hadn't played out this day a thousand times in his head. He wouldn't say he hadn't planned, and daydreamed and plain old fashioned dreamt about each second of this. It wasn't like he hadn't had time, with nearly two months of school and nothing to do. He had thought of scenarios with fighting, with crying, with laughter and hugging, with simple silence; he had dreamt of getting everything off his chest, and had nightmares where he couldn't say a word. But for some obscure reason, he had never thought of _waiting_.

He had waited for them to arrive (being there early himself, he decided, was a quick way to be in control of events; no surprises), he waited for Mary to leave, and now he waited again. Their move.

James had never had much experience waiting: when he was little – all alone in that big old house of his parents – entertaining himself had been a full time occupation (between various pureblood regime lessons) and he had undertaken it whole heartedly. If loneliness could have been his best friend, he never had time to meet it. And then when he started school...there had always been the others, to stay his boredom.

James chastised himself for letting his mind wander so dangerously close. His head slumped back against the chair behind; his hand came up to massage his neck.

"You ok?" A voice asked from the doorway, and James' head lolled to watch Remus close the door behind himself an take the bench across from his friend.

"Perfect. You?" James muttered sarcastically, and made an awkward attempt to be more presentable than his current sprawled state around the compartment. Remus smiled sadly, and handed him his cloak – thrown into the corner – before James reached for it himself.

Both of their eyes went to the second badge, glinting tauntingly.

"It should have been you," James told Remus sincerely, looking away. Remus shrugged off the sentiment without speaking.

"How were your holidays?" James asked, acutely aware of how _long_ it had been since he'd seen Remus. Of how long Remus, too, had been alone.

"Not bad," Remus sighed. "Uneventful for the most part. And yours?"

They could have been mere acquaintances – long lost cousins who barely remembered one another but were bound by social courtesies to exchange these dull pleasantries – for all the passion they put into their words.

"Did you see Peter at all?" James wanted to know, picking at a loose strand on the train.

Remus shook his head. He didn't need to ask about James: Remus might not share the same relationship with him as Sirius had, but he knew him well enough to see that James had been in mourning; if he hadn't seen Remus, he hadn't seen Peter.

"I think I'll go find him." Remus decided finally, jumping to his feet and vanishing quickly. James' head hit the backboard of the seat hard, his mouth pinched down in the corners although all he really felt was relief. It hadn't been long enough. Six weeks were not enough to forget, and until he forgot...

Until James Potter forgot, nothing would ever be normal.

* * *

The hand that reached the handle ahead of Lily's was smaller, and she didn't immediately notice when it didn't pull out the lever and slide the door open. Eventually, people humming around her and her companion in the crowded hallway – greetings and jokes flying helter skelter – she looked to the other girl in confusion.

Ellie looked back. Her clear blue eyes were not warm and forgiving, she didn't have the twitch of a smile that Lily had assumed was ever present fixed upon her impish face.

"Ellie?" She asked, half laughing at the peculiarity of the moment.

"Lily." Ellie smiled back, but it was nothing more than a movement of the lips. "Look, I pride myself on being fair, and listening to people, and not judging and all of those type of things," she held up a preventative hand to stop Lily from jumping in, "but I can't be like that with you."

"Ellie, what-"

"You hurt James. That's the truth of it: I know you didn't _ask_ to be kissed, I know you were furious with Sirius afterwards and I know that it's all not your fault. But he was hurt _because of you_. So you better make damn sure you do your best to put things right." And Ellie wrenched open the door and vanished inside, leaving a dumbstruck Lily in the corridor.

"Lily?" A voice called her attention, and she turned slowly to look at Remus Lupin.

"Are you going in?" He asked her, and she could have wept in gratitude at the light humour in his tone.

She nodded, smiling tightly, and opened the door ahead of her fellow Gryffindor prefect.

Lily had been a prefect for two years ahead of her promotion to Head Girl – Head Girl, her out of everyone! – and she had gotten on well with nearly everyone in the management group (there were a few surly Slytherins who had never warmed to her Muggle-born status, including and especially Snape). She didn't know whether that would change now: everything else seemed to have.

The murmur of noise in the room abated as she entered, and her jaw came up strongly, "Hello."

She could hear Remus' breath of laughter as he shut the door behind them.

"Is everyone here?" Lily asked easily, "Good. Let's-" Her words died on her lips, fallen from her mind. "Potter." She said instead.

James raised his eyes to her, "Evans. Punctual as ever."

Something bubbled low in Lily's stomach – perhaps pity, for the bags beneath his eyes, and perhaps regret, for the emptiness, and strangely similar to guilt, though she had done nothing wrong. It clenched the muscles there, and she found herself short of breath.

"Well then," James turned to the rest of the room; the spell of his gaze was broken and Lily turned away, "shall we?"

"Yes," she agreed.

"Well that was fun," James commented dryly forty minutes later. "Are prefects usually such barrels of laughter?"

Lily pulled a face, bent over the new timetable, "Don't you just love it?"

"Oh, more please," James muttered sarcastically, and passed over the list of prefects.

Accepting it, Lily laughed.

Despite their complaints, it hadn't been as bad as either of them feared: on Lily's part, there had been few snide comments and looks, proceedings had...well, proceeded as normal; on James', perhaps it had become easier to bear being in the same room as Lily, and there was Snape to glare at so every cloud and all that.

"I think we're pretty much done," Lily told him, stacking the few sheets of paper together and getting to her feet. He copied her example, and they stood in awkward silence for a few seconds.

"So, I'm patrolling at two?" James asked forcibly, knowing the answer.

"Yes." Lily agreed enthusiastically, "With Ellie."

"Good, good." James nodded his head for something to do. "Well, then, I'll just be..."

They played an uneasy game of getting around one another – the old, we both step one way, then we both step another – and finally, laughing a little (though not finding it funny) James skirted around her and headed out the door.

"James?" Lily called him back, and his name sounded strange on her tongue but perhaps Potter would have tasted stranger.

He doubled back, surprised, "Yes?"

"Look, about..." Lily's voice trailed off and again she was having trouble breathing. Nevertheless, James knew what she wanted to say.

"Lily, I don't blame you for what happened, ok?" He promised her, and though they were the words she wanted her eyes flew to his at the cool manner in his tone. His eyes had gone blank, his fingers devoid of their usual agitated movements.

He left without saying anything else, and Lily took her seat again.

* * *

"Hi, Hayley," Mary greeted cheerfully as she entered the same cabin they had all ridden to school in since they were twelve, taking the seat opposite her and well versed that the cursory lifting of her eyebrows was as much a greeting as she would get in return.

"You're sure that this'll be alright?" Marlene asked, following quietly. She hesitated in the doorway, one hand remaining on the handle so that she could duck out at the easiest convenience.

"Don't be stupid, come in!" Mary insisted; Hayley didn't combat the idea, and it was this – rather than Mary's enthusiasm – that spurred Marlene into the small space.

"How were your holidays, Hayley?" Marlene asked timidly, dancing a glance across the brunettes.

Hayley shrugged, setting down her book with a long-suffering sigh, "Pretty good, thanks. Nothing out of this world amazing ("Liar," teased Mary) but nothing completely horrible, I guess. How were yours?" Her eyes locked on the blonde's with enough challenge to be an accusation but less than an outright rejection.

"Terrible." Marlene replied, honestly. "The majority was spent crying."

Despite her evident dislike of her companion, Hayley looked empathetic, "Why? Will?"

Marlene flinched, and Mary sent Hayley a look that was so common – what with Hayley's complete lack of tact – that Hayley knew she had received it without even looking, "Yes." She didn't want to say more on the matter.

Hayley, as per usual, didn't pick up on this, "I thought you were with Sirius now, though."

Marlene squared her shoulders, "We're not a couple. We just hang out sometimes, keep each other company."

"Oh, is that what you do for each other?" Hayley remarked snidely, picking up her book again with a look of disdain; colour flooded Marlene's pale cheeks.

"Hayley!" Mary admonished, her fingers fluttering across Marlene's exposed forearm briefly in supplication. "Marlene doesn't have to justify anything to you!"

She smiled at Marlene, but the other girl took her words the wrong way.

"What? Because I'm not friends with her? So should I justify it to you?" She asked venomously, surprising the others – Marlene McKinnon was the furthest thing from hostile; she didn't have an angry bone in her body. "Well I won't!" She continued hurriedly, "Sirius and I, we don't love each other. We don't even _like_ each other very much! But we are both lonely, and we've both had our hearts broken and we comfort each other, however we can. And no, just so we're all clear, we haven't had sex."

Hayley stared at her book angrily, pretending not to have heard.

Mary leant in, "Why not?"

It took Marlene a second to work out what the was being asked. Much of her own speech had blurred into nothing in her memory – that hazy recollection of something torn from the soul in the heat of the moment.

"Why haven't we had sex? Why _would_ we?" Marlene asked in return.

"Ouch, McKinnon. That hurt." Sirius drawled, swaggering into the small space and taking several seats.

"I need a drink." Hayley announced, leapt to her feet and threw herself into the corridor. Her swearing ("well I bet she wouldn't kiss her mother with those lips," Sirius muttered sarcastically) echoed into the space as the door banged back open with the force she slammed it with.

"Private conversation, Black." Mary said tartly, rolling her eyes at Marlene. Marlene grimaced back, throwing Sirius a dirty luck. Trust him.

"Fine, fine!" Sirius threw his hands up, getting back to his feet. "I just came to tell Marls that I'm in the very last carriage, and I've got Will with me."

Marlene's head flew up, but Sirius was long gone. The door clicked softly.

Marlene looked at Mary, brushing her hair – the blonde locks were far shorter than the last time Mary had seen them, she realised – from her eyes and sighing dramatically.

"What are we going to do, then?" Mary took pity, clasping Marlene's hands in her own in an eternal symbol of unity.

Marlene smiled genuinely, "Oh, Mare. What we've been doing all along: get the hell on with it."

Mary laughed, thought of Reginald.

* * *

"So what are the stories from the holiday?" Will asked eagerly as Sirius entered.

The boy looked drawn – his skin was pale, nearly translucent, bags deep under his eyes, pupils wide with fatigue. Despite that, his grin was the same as ever; his question as familiar as a second skin. Out of place, but that, too, was familiar.

"Nothing very exciting." Sirius promised with a wry smile.

He was well aware that most of his holidays had been spent making out with Will's ex.

"What about you?" He tried to distract Will's attention from Marlene.

"I've been in France the majority of the time," Will said cheerfully, pulling his book from his bag. "My family own a little villa in the south, and we vacation there. It's very pleasant."

"How thrilling."

Perhaps Will caught the sarcasm in Sirius' tone (there was a first time for everything) for he looked to the boy sharply, "So James and yourself just stayed in England?" He asked innocently.

Sirius' mouth dropped open, "What?"

Blinking, trying to understand where he went wrong, Will asked again, "Did James and you leave the country this holiday?"

Sirius stared, dumbfounded.

"Will...what do you remember from the end of last term?" He asked quietly, dark brows furrowed above stormy eyes.

Will flushed, "I'd rather avoid the subject of Marlene and mine's split, if you wouldn't mind."

"Are you kidding?"

From Will's blank, confused face, he wasn't.

Really, he was very much like a thin, posh Peter.

"Will," the words choked Sirius, and he found himself with a hand on his back, hunched over his knees, tears burning the insides of his eyes but his face stone cold.

"Are you alright?" Will asked, low voice filled with the easy concern of mere acquaintances.

It struck Sirius that perhaps everyone in his life was a mere acquaintance, apart from James. James, alone, had known Sirius.

Why couldn't Sirius just have known James that bit better?

The words were heavy on his tongue – he hadn't admitted them yet; it seemed impossible that anyone, anywhere, didn't know. They bit into his sides, memories dicing his heart.

He thought of Marlene's face in his hands, her own hands on his waist.

"Will, towards the end of June James and I fell out, and we didn't make up."

It didn't feel like a weight had lifted from his shoulders.

It hurt.

A lot.

"Oh," Will said.

"Oh," Sirius agreed.

"Why don't you make up?" Will asked, delicate lines criss-crossing his forehead, slightly too large teeth digging into his lower lip.

Sirius shot him a look, very much regretting not allowing him to turn to his literature, "Why don't you and Marlene make up?" He asked, cruel and uncaring of the fact. Will flinched.

And then his face straightened out, "I suppose Marlene doesn't want to."

Sirius grunted (he had last kissed Marlene two hours ago).

"And she was as much a part of our relationship as I was."

(Sirius had found a jumper of hers that morning when he was packing).

"Whatever she thought, she had as much say as I did."

(It was in his bag right now, two metres away, to return to her).

Sirius coughed, "Yes, well. That doesn't really have much to do with James and me."

Will nodded, "I suppose not." He smiled sadly, picked up his book.

Sirius stretched along the bench, and promptly fell into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

"Wake up!" A voice beckoned, and James slapped out a lazy hand to put an end to the nonsense. There was a muffled groan, and then the voice came again, further away. "Get up, idiot!"

Hazel eyes blinked slowly into consciousness, screwed up against the light; ever so slowly, James' back arched from the bench until he was sitting upright.

"Hello, Prongs. Long time, no see." Peter greeted gleefully, looking ready to throw his arms around James. James really hoped he wouldn't.

"Hullo, Pete," James rubbed his fist over his eyes, glanced first outside – it was just darkening – and then at his watch.

"How were your holidays?" Peter asked, taking the available seat (somewhere along the track, the two first years who had shyly asked if they could sit in must have moved) and digging into the pile of sweets beside James.

James watched him apathetically for a moment before replying, "Fine, I guess. I was in France nearly the whole time."

"In the Bordeaux house?"

James hummed assent.

"Well I was in Dover." Peter informed him. "With those cousins from Bath who I told you about, remember? Well, yeah, Katie brought a friend of hers – Rachel – over, and let me tell you: _massive_ knockers! Like, huge! Like, bigger than watermelons! Like, hello boob one, hello boob two, nice to meet you! And, trust me, I met them." He looked up from his food to wink crassly.

James laughed, screwing up his face in the time old expression of disgust that disguised his teenage fascination. Oh, he knew that Peter was implying sex – and he would heavily suggest that it was a lie – and he wanted details, but he couldn't say that, could he?

"One night we were alone on the beach, and she was wearing this thin little top and no bra and – let me tell you – phwoaaar! Horny, that one: couldn't get enough!" Again, he winked.

Again, James laughed: and genuinely, too.

"What about you?" Peter remembered his manners, "Any fit French birds?"

James shrugged, "I didn't look, if I'm honest. I wasn't in the mood."

Peter's mouth dropped open, "For sex? How can you not be in the mood for some loving?"

"Some loving?" James teased his shorter, plumper friend. "Some _loving_? Oh, God, you're not married to this Rachel chick already are you?"

Peter threw a liquorice wand at him, which James caught and ate, "At least I'm _having_ sex."

"So you say."

"So I say!" Peter insisted, banging on his robed chest in such a way that James was sure was meant to convey his manliness.

"My little baby's all grown up," James pretended to wipe a tear.

"There'll be no little baby's, I made sure of that!" Peter grinned.

"I don't want to know about your contraception skills, Pete." James said, honestly. "Some things are too intimate, you know?"

Peter nodded his submission, mentally tucking the side note away, "Anyway."

"We'll be there soon," James gestured out of the window, "So I'd better get down to the Prefect's cabin-"

"I can't believe you're Head Boy!"

"- and find Evans-"

"I can't believe Evans is Head Girl!"

"- so I can make myself useful."

"Dude." Peter reprimanded.

James shot him an affectionate look, reached out to ruffle his hair. Peter batted James' hand away. "You're an idiot, Pete." He told him, smiling.

"Yeah, well, at least I'm having sex!" Peter shot back, trying to sneak his accomplishment back into conversation.

"So you say!" James shouted down the corridor as he left.

* * *

Dumbledore surveyed them over the rim of his glasses, "Good evening."

"Good evening."

"Hullo."

Lily fought the urge to roll her eyes at James, and his surly, quiet attitude. Dumbledore merely smiled.

"Might I take the moment to congratulate you on your ascension in the management team," Dumbledore smiled slightly, eyes twinkling.

"Thanks," James said.

"You might," Lily agreed, and it was James' turn not to roll his eyes. Dumbledore merely smiled.

"I trust you vacationed well?" He asked, looking for each to nod – both did so reluctantly – before continuing, "Then it is without further ado I shall leave you to make your journey back to the dormitories. I don't doubt you've had an exciting day, seeing those you thought you did not care to miss."

James was nearly certain that this last was directed at him; a flicker of blue gaze in his direction, a meaningful tilt of the head.

"Professor McGonagall will be in charge of your management, and it is to her that you should report any particular misgivings or desired acknowledgements to, do you understand?"

James and Lily nodded simultaneously.

"As older students, you shall uphold the values of the school and help others to do so soon. These are dangerous times," his voice dropped into a lower hum that hinted of secrecy, of importance, and both teenagers craned forwards to better hear, "and it would not be untoward to assume that your duties may be more severe than your predecessors." His voice returned to normal, "You would be wise to remember that sometimes, lack of punishment is just as relevant as retribution. After all, it is with our friends our loyalties lie, in the end. They are our most valuable asset."

This time, James knew he was being spoken to, even if Dumbledore didn't give anything away.

Well, if the old man thought that James would forgive Black anytime soon, he had another thought coming.

"Good evening," Dumbledore dismissed them.

Dutifully, the Heads rose to their feet, each shaking Dumbledore's proffered hand in turn.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Lily took her exit, head bowed – her hair parted on either side of her neck when she did that, and James had to force his eyes from the expanse of fair skin.

"Good night, Headmaster," James sent the older man the hint of a smile – an understanding between them struck.

Lily had waited in the corridor for him, and when he joined her they walked together quickly to the Gryffindor common room. James paused at the foot of the stairs: it was strange to see the room so quiet, and he took in his surroundings with a practiced eye. He noticed the slightly ajar panelling at the back, even if Lily didn't.

"I'll put up the patrol timetables, if you want?" James offered, holding out his hand for her to deposit them into.

Lily shook her head, "No, it's okay. I'm an early riser."

James knew this was a lie, but he let it slide, eager to rejoin his friends – surprisingly.

"Well then, good night," he bidded, backing away towards his own set of stairs.

"Night," Lily called after him, tucking her hair behind her ear and watching until he was out of sight.

James took the stair two at a time, right to the top. He hesitated only a second outside the familiar door before taking a breath and entering. Remus wasn't there, but everyone else was.

Everyone.

Sirius.

"How was Dumbledore?" Peter asked, from his place on the floor.

James took in the scene in a glance: his bed (the central bed) went unoccupied; Peter sat at the head of his own bed, back against the wall; Will was in the far corner, already in between the sheets, and Sirius lounged along the window seat, moonlight falling across the achingly familiar contours of his face – the straight nose, the pouty lips, the jutting cheek bones.

"Fine," James replied, voice easy. He crossed to his own bed, pulled his pyjama bottoms from his luggage and quickly changed before finishing his answer. "Cryptic, meaningful, thoroughly Dumbledore-like." The cold air of September was itching at his skin, crawling there. "Where's Remus?"

"Talking to McGonagall," Peter informed, sneaking another chocolate frog that he had obtained from Merlin-knows-where.

James understood: he was outlining plans for each full moon for the rest of the year.

"What about?" Will asked, oblivious.

"He's allergic to peanuts, he needs the ingredients list for the week." Sirius lied smoothly, flicking the page in the book he was reading (Sherlock Holmes, James would guess at).

Will pulled a face to represent his understanding, removed his reading glasses and shuffled down to be surrounded by the covers of his bed. He smiled at them all sleepily, flicked his wand; the curtains surrounding his bed snapped shoot silently, billowing into a standstill.

James spared Sirius a glance, which Sirius caught.

They both knew what was going on: they would just have to live with each other; nothing more, nothing less.

"I'm going to sleep," James announced, tucking himself into his covers and rolling onto his side. Sirius moved from the window (he knew that James liked to be able to see outside when in bed) and got changed himself.

From his position lying down James could see the spine of the book. Sherlock Holmes. Some things never change.


	11. Of Love and Not Love

**Okay, folks, here's the deal: I wrote this chapter, and then immediately wrote the next, but in a different style. So I'm posting them separately, because they don't really fit together, but at the same time. This chapter's tiny, the next one's bigger. Hope you like it! Hope the format makes sense! **

* * *

"_Dear Kingsley,"_ Hayley inscribed carefully, putting a natural flourish to her 'y' and chewing on the end of her quill as she wondered about what she could put.

"_Things aren't going well here..." _she began,_ "but it's still better than we imagined. It's strange, seeing everyone when I saw so little of them in the summer, even two months into school seventh year is still crazy. Marlene's lost about a stone, and cut off most of her hair; she looks good, but not like herself. Of course, that might be down to all the sex she's been having with Black over the summer. Yes, you read that right: Marlene and Sirius hooked up. Will doesn't know yet (he's the only one in our year – aside from Marlene, of course – who's on decent talking terms with Black right now, so he can't know that he was banging his ex-girlfriend) and it'll certainly be dramatic when that blows up in their faces. I just hope James gets a few good punches in there._

"_Apart from that, everyone's much the same. Mary still has a string of boys following her, Peter's still fat and Remus still needs to lighten up._

"_James is sad, but there's nothing I can say about that."_

Hayley chewed her lip for a minute, scribbled out the last line. She really liked Kingsley, and this...thing...with James in the past, it didn't need bringing up. Water under the bridge.

A clattering of feet rushed up the stairs, the door was flung wide open and Mary rushed inside, throwing her heels – only four inches, according to school regulation, but still far too high for sensible people to run around in, as Mary did – under her – Lily's, actually – bed, slinging one arm around Hayley's wider shoulders and pressing a kiss to her best friend's cheek.

"I'm going to meet Reginald," she announced loudly, although only Hayley was there to hear and she sat mere centimetres away on the narrow chair.

"Have fun," Hayley deadpanned, returning to her letter.

There was a huff, a scraping of chair legs against the floor, and Mary disappeared again, blowing kisses from the door. Hayley smiled, listening for a moment to the noises of younger students hurrying out of the cheerful brunette's way, thinking about Mary's flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.

"_Mary's in love,"_ Hayley informed Kingsley, "_with some whelp from Hufflepuff – what's even the point in Hufflepuff? – and she doesn't even realise it."_

* * *

Mary hummed as she danced through the deserted corridors. It was past curfew, and she was making too much noise to completely avoid detection, but she couldn't care less. Her day had been long and boring – not one single free period – and she needed this visit from Reginald to make her feel better; she knew it would.

Her bare feet felt the distinction between the hard marble of the corridor and the soft carpet in the disused charms classroom on the fifth floor; she barely noticed the change – or that she'd opened the door and entered for that matter – because Reginald was there and he was so thin and speckly with mussed up hair and brilliant eyes and a quirky, lopsided smile, and he stood when she entered the room and listened when he talked and one of his teeth was wonky and when he laughed – really laughed, the kind where you giggle on for minutes and find it hard to breath – he threw his head back. Reginald. Her Reginald.

"Hello," he greeted, his fingers reaching for hers and that oh so familiar smile crawling unreservedly over his face.

Mary flushed, "Hi!"

Reginald took a moment to inspect her hands, wrapped in his. He rubbed some warmth into them, eyes crinkling as he did so, for he'd been there for some time – waiting – and she was cold from her walk (skip).

"How was your day?" He asked in the end, leading her to some comfy chairs in the corner by the window.

Mary curled her feet up under herself, leaning her face upon her now free hand, "Horribly dull. Lessons all day, and not a single one with you!"

Reginald smiled at that, "Well, you should take up Charms, then, shouldn't you!"

"Or you should do Divination!"

Reginald shuddered, not entirely joking, and Mary giggled at his antics.

"How was your day?" She asked him.

By the flickering light of the candles, wrapped up tightly against the cold, tired eyes drifting closed now and again but refusing to leave because, really, they might not be able to meet up again during the week, and Herbology lessons were not the ideal time to get to know someone, Mary MacDonald spoke softly to a boy far less attractive than herself and not exactly her usual type, and she didn't mean it romantically one bit. She didn't think.

* * *

"_Lesson's are the same, but harder. I still hate every subject. I still only want to play Quidditch. I still have no idea what I'm doing with my life. Any ideas?_

"_Everyone else seems to have it sussed, you know? Mary wants to be one of those party planners for rich people (what are they called?), and has a whole plan for how to get there. Lily wants to be a Healer, and she'll manage it, with her grades! Marlene is going to open her own cafe, be it's chef and manager. And little old me still has no leads."_

"Hello." A voice startled Hayley, causing her to jump, splattering ink everywhere.

Cursing, she fumbled for her wand and flicked it once, removing the ink easily enough but still leaving her glaring at the apologetic looking blonde who had sunk onto her mattress.

"What do you want, Marlene?" Hayley asked gruffly,

She was sure Marlene rolled her eyes, but she was rereading her letter to Kingsley so she didn't see it.

"How's lover boy?" Marlene asked, rather than answer.

"None of your business, now that I come to think about it," Hayley sing-song-ed. She then caught sight of herself in the mirror opposite the desk – all angry eyes and glittering, frozen, self satisfied smile. She looked like a Slytherin, and she quickly dropped the cheerful pretence.

Marlene huffed, "Look Hayley."

"No."

There was a pause, "No what?"

Hayley threw down her quill, eager to get this over and done with so that she could continue her ranting and moaning to her source who she was sure would side with her. Or argue. Both were perfect.

"No, I can't get over your involvement with Black." She raised one eyebrow, daring Marlene to protest that this was not the conversation she wished to be having. "I don't care if you don't love him, I don't care if it's over, I don't care if your heart was broken and you needed comforting. I don't care. Think about what he did: you should have walked away."

Marlene swallowed, shame clouding her eyes, "But I don't love him."

"Maybe because he's a bastard."

"And it's over."

"It should never have started."

"And my heart was...broken." Marlene's voice dropped far below a whisper - a mere breath that, if she hadn't known what she was saying, Marlene herself wouldn't have been able to discern.

Hayley looked at her, "Black broke hearts, Marlene. He stamped all over everyone's faith in him."

Marlene's mouth quivered, "He didn't break my heart."

"No," Hayley disagreed, "you did that yourself."

The statement hung in the air between them: a battle cry if Hayley had ever meant one.

"I know," Marlene took the peace offering, tears pooling in those pale blue eyes of hers. "And I don't know how to fix it."

Hayley was not a nice girl. She was actually quite a mean girl, and on top of that she didn't particularly like Marlene, even in the best of times. She would have thought she would have enjoyed nothing more than seeing her opponent's eyes filling with fear and hurt. She would once have liked the hunch in the blonde's back, the trembling lips and the heavy breathing.

She was wrong, and she had changed.

"You'll be ok, Marlene," Hayley promised reluctantly. "All this? It'll sort itself out soon, and we'll all be ok. Just got to keep soldiering on!" She offered up a grim smile, a motivational hand gesture.

Marlene's lips twitched, her eyes still dead, "I'm going to go and read in the common room," she informed, picking up her first edition Pride and Prejudice from her bedside and leaving as quietly as she'd entered. Lily stepped through the door as it swung shut.

"_Now, Marlene?_" Hayley began again, _"She _does_ know she's in love. And she's still in the same mess."_

* * *

Marlene could not get a grip on Hayley: was she a bitch, was she nice, did she like her, did she hate her? The tiny brunette was an infuriating mystery. Even the one thing that she had known for sure – Hayley was in love with James – was under threat with this new pen pal fellow – whatever his name was.

"Stupid cow's worse than Darcy!" She mumbled angrily, shoving past some little scrud of a boy who had taken the best sofa for himself. They would never have gotten away with it when they were in first year, but Marlene couldn't bring herself to reprimand: she took a window seat instead.

"I thought you liked Darcy?" A voice surprised her nearby.

Marlene jumped, registered, froze, then swallowed.

"Hello, Will." For the first time, properly, since they had broken up, the two Gryffindors faced one another.

"Hello, Marlene," he replied easily.

Will looked...taller. His hair had grown out some – less of the fixed, cultured style his mother imposed; more of a James Potter messy influence – and he was freckled – had he gone to the house in France? His smile was the same as ever, but of course it wasn't the smile he usually bestowed upon her. This was the meeting-distant-cousins-for-Christmas smile, and it hurt surprisingly much to be on the receiving end of.

Of course, the distant cousins had hardly once been in love with him, had they?

"Trouble in the dorms?" He asked her, gesturing to the hole in the wall she had appeared through.

How was he finding it so easy to talk to her?

"Hayley," she explained, and he understood her perfectly with a little laugh. "What about you?" She glanced at the clock. The hands told her it was a solid hour past the time Will usually vanished to bed at.

Will smirked a little, "Oh, you know me, always pushing boundaries and all that."

Marlene laughed, because she knew he was joking and it was funny, anyway.

"No, Remus and Sirius are hesitantly becoming acquaintances," he explained, "and I would hate to get in the way."

"Can't be fun being in _that_ dorm right now!" Marlene mused, taking a quick inventory of the occupants.

"Kelt and I are the only ones _not_ involved in this little feud, so naturally they all think we're siding against them and we're metaphorically left outside in the cold!" He agreed, rubbing a hand over his scant evening stubble.

"How is Kelt?" Marlene asked good naturedly, allowing her stiff posture to sink against the hard wall, quirking her head to one side as she waited for his reply. It took her a few awkward seconds to realise that she was staring unabashedly, and that he had noticed. Pink stained his neck, and he looked determinedly out of the window.

"Kelt's fine, I'm fine, we're all fine. Anyway, I'd better go to bed." He hurried to his feet, bowed – _bowed _ – to her, stumbled awkwardly about trying to retract the silly, forced tradition and scurried away in a cloud of embarrassment and mumbled reprimands to himself.

Marlene laughed as she watched – quietly, so that he wouldn't hear – and pretended that she didn't want to cry. She had thought that the distance was the hardest; being that close was worse than she could ever have imagined.

* * *

"_At least I don't have to worry about Lily falling in love. That one's as cynical as they come: not through whatever she says, but you just kind of see it in her eyes. She's closed off – caring, but not from the soul. God, I sound sappy, don't I? What have you done to me, eh?"_

Hayley shook her head – Kingsley would shake his head when he read that, she guessed – and considered scrapping the whole paragraph. But she had cycled through her other room mates, and something had to be said about Lily: why not this?

She looked at the redhead, sprawled across her bed with her hair tied up messily, attempting to do the same Transfiguration essay she had been working on unsuccessfully for a week.

"_Still, she's okay, for a ginger. She's the most like me in the dorm, I think; Mary's too girly and Marlene...well, I really hope I'm not like Marlene because that one's just dim. Lily's got her head screwed on straight, she thinks about things other than you boys."_

"I can't bloody do it!" Lily chose that moment to growl, scrunching her parchment into a ball and aiming furiously for the outside world. It bounced off the window, but she regarded it with admiration for its attempt.

"Good shot," Hayley turned away, sniffing disdainfully.

No wonder the idiot was in the Quidditch team.

"No wonder I'm not in the Quidditch team," Lily said cheerfully. Hayley allowed a moment of surprise before choosing not to answer.

"That," Lily continued, "and I think Potter would work me way to hard!" Hayley's mouth dropped open, but Lily didn't notice. "The man's like a machine, am I right?" Hayley turned to stare. "He works so hard at it! And you've got to admit, he's good from all that drilling!"

"Lily!" Hayley interrupted, unable to stop herself. "Do you have any idea how sexual you're sounding right now?"

It was Lily's turn to be surprised, "What?"

"Literally everything you just said was an innuendo." Hayley explained, adopting a condescending tone to mask her irritation with the oblivious blonde.

Blood rushed to Lily's cheeks; she tucked a wisp of escaped hair behind her ear and coughed slightly, "That's ridiculous."

"Potter would _work_ me," Hayley quoted.

"In _Quidditch_!"

"He _works so hard_."

"At _Quidditch_!"

"He's good from all that _drilling_."

"_Quidditch_ drilling! We were talking about the sport!"

Hayley scoffed, "No Evans, _you_ were talking about Potter."

"Like I would ever have a sexual thought about _him_!" Lily denied, "He's stupid and immature and no grown up eyes or defined abs are going to make me think of him as anything other than a baby!"

"Okay, whatever Evans." Hayley turned away, pulling her letter closely and preparing to scratch out her final paragraph.

"I'm serious! Laughing less doesn't mean he's more adult! And anyway, I always liked his laugh!"

"Sure, sure," Hayley set the quill nib down, black sinking into the parchment and spreading wider: a little hole in the middle of her words that she found strangely entrancing.

"And now I have to go and patrol with him," Lily huffed, rolling off her bed and slamming shoes onto her feet. She forced her thin arms through her robe sleeves, glared at Hayley, "This is going to be fun, now; with you having said all that!"

"Give him my love," Hayley ignored her words.

Lily hesitated for a minute, considered throwing that seemingly innocent expression back in the smaller girl's face and decided that it was too cruel. Instead, she marched out.

"_Though, watch this space. She has a crush on James, no matter how much she tries to deny it."_ Hayley dotted the 'i' with slightly more ferocity than needed.

* * *

"Sorry I'm late," Lily twirled over to the portrait hole and landed in front of James, her hair swishing around her shoulders and a broad smile parting her lips.

James beamed back automatically, and then caught himself, canning the illogical joy of her presence, "What's ten minutes here or there, eh?"

"Responsible idea," Lily teased.

"You're the one who's late," James pointed out, reaching for the handle and pulling it open for her.

On the other side, Sirius stood, hand outstretched to let himself in and his face a picture of shock at their sudden appearance.

"Hello, Sirius," Lily said through the near tangible tension, stepping out of the boy's way.

Perhaps it was her voice, or perhaps it was the movement, or perhaps it was an awakening of his deeply ingrained manners that caused him to jerk to the side, gesturing the lady through the door ahead of himself, "Evans, Potter," he greeted evenly.

"Black." Potter muttered sullenly, following Lily into the corridor.

Sirius vanished inside, and James pretended that he was unaffected. Lily rolled her eyes.

"So, what kept you?" James forced through his lips, grinning manically and looking anywhere but at her.

"Oh, Hayley was harping on about something or other," Lily said casually: both for his sake and for her own. She could feel the blush – that curse of all fair skinned people – beginning to betray her, and she was glad for his lack of gaze.

"Do you want me to beat her up for you?" He offered jokingly. "Or would you prefer me to owl my dad and have her arrested?"

Lily laughed, "Oh, no, physical violence is better."

"Thought so." They laughed together.

It was easy – for the most part – the silence between them. Every now and then, one would ask a question as they moved through the corridors, or crack a joke, or tell a story about their day; this getting to know each other, this bonding...they both liked it. And anyway, it was necessary, wasn't it? For them to get on, for them to be the best Heads they could be.

"Would your dad arrest someone if you asked?" Lily wanted to know, when they were most of the way through the castle and the thought occurred to her. The sound of their steady, relaxed pace was covered by his short laugh – an answer in itself.

"My dad is very enthusiastic in regulation keeping." James stated sardonically.

Lily stopped walking, craning her head back to look at him, "What is it?"

Noting her absence at his side, James doubled back, staring down into her face, "What what?"

Lily sighed in affectionate irritation, fisting a handful of his robes and stepping into his space. Her head was fully pushed back so that she could maintain eye contact.

James couldn't rip his eyes away: like that, with her slender neck open to him and her lips slightly parted...her hair brushing against his hands that were rising to hover near her waist. She was nothing short of miraculous and he was aware that he was breathing faster than normal. Surely she could feel his heartbeat through his chest.

"What's with the tone of voice?" She asked quietly.

"My Dad and I...we don't get along very well," he admitted, head dropping automatically.

He didn't think he'd ever been this close to her.

Her eyes fluttered shut, her body raised onto tiptoes.

His fingers brushed the indent of her waist, just gently.

He leaned in.

* * *

"_Anyway, I'd better be off because it's getting late and I don't have anything else to say. There's a Hogsmeade trip in a few weeks, if you're interested in meeting up? We're not meant to leave the village, but no one would know if I apparated to London, would they?_

"_I miss you._

_Hayley x_


	12. Blood and Water

**Part 2 of the dua**l **update! Hope you enjoy it! It's quite an emotional one!**

* * *

Mary MacDonald and Marlene McKinnon were polar opposites. There was no comparison between them.

Mary was a pretty girl who, most probably because she knew she wasn't the cleverest of girls, delighted in making boys chase her and girls envious of her. She had set ideas in how to do this: wear a lot of make-up, modify her uniform to be the most flattering, be "cruel to be kind" to nearly everyone, don't be a prude. And boys did chase her; girls were envious. And if boys also thought her common, and girls said nasty things behind her back, Mary turned a blind eye because she was happy, and that was that.

Marlene, on the other hand, knew herself to be a plump, reserved character, who had never worn make-up ever and shied away from thoughts of a more sexual nature. Her best physical attribute was her hair (Mary's worst feature, as it so happened); blonde, bouncy, worn usually loose down to her waist. Marlene was quiet and studious, above all a romantic at heart. She wasn't shy about admitting that her long term boyfriend – Will – was her one true love.

Their only common attributes were that they both had alliterate names beginning with M, and that they were both Muggle-born, and that they were both Gryffindors.

Or, that was how it had been, before.

Now, Mary wore less make-up and laughed more; her uniform the same, but only because she had never bothered to set it to standard regulation. She had not had sex in over four months (the longest dry spell she had since she began, at fourteen), and she found that she didn't miss it.

Now, Marlene had broken up with Will. She laughed less, but was more comfortable with her own body, and those of people around her. Her hair had been cut.

They had both changed incredibly over the holidays – and the weeks leading up to it – and those facts only became more obvious as people looked on.

"She's so adorable!" Mary was cooing over a baby photo late on Saturday afternoon. She looked up from examining the chubby baby, waving it's balled fists at her in a remarkably aggressive way for someone so tiny, and refrained from making the obvious comment that having babies ruined your figure and Mary herself would never do it.

"Thanks," Dana Vane – the elder sister of the crying child – smiled nervously. It wasn't that she didn't like Mary McDonald...it was that Mary had never seen fit to join in conversation with her apart from one time ("Oh, you're Savannah Vane's little sister? Wow, she's prettier than you.") and Dana had, up until then, been more than happy to leave it that way. From what she heard, and her single experience, she was not the most pleasant of conversationalists. Now, she found herself unexpectedly thawing to the lovely girl.

"How old is she?" Mary beamed, handing back the picture.

"Four months." Dana informed, smiling too, though obviously less so.

"Good age," Mary complimented, lying through her teeth. Mary knew about as much as a cuckoo on the subject of child rearing.

Dana laughed, and opened her mouth to point out this evident truth, but was interrupted by Marlene, who dumped her three textbooks into Mary's surprised arms and wound her hair angrily into a knot on top of her head.

"I'll tell you what's not a good age: seventeen." She growled out, adding a greeting to an overwhelmed Dana as an afterthought.

Mary laughed, sharing conspiratorial looks with Dana (who delighted at this inclusion to what had been before a firmly Gryffindor clique), "What's up, Marls?"

"Don't call me that," Marlene responded automatically. "And it's _your_ bloody Kyle that's the problem!"

If Mary had been going to share looks with Dana again, she forgot as her mouth dropped open, "What?"

"Harping on and on about my hair, about my 'new look'. Godsake!"

"He's not _my_ Kyle!" Mary ignored her.

"Well he mentioned you a hell of a lot, then," Marlene rolled her eyes, uninterested as ever in Mary's never ending love life.

"Who's Kyle?" Dana butted in.

"Ravenclaw in the year below I used to date," Mary replied shortly.

"This dick in the year below who broke Mary's heart," Marlene said at the same time.

Dana looked between them, "Right."

"He didn't," Mary comforted Dana, who she had decided would be unable to deal with the gravity of the circumstances, being a Hufflepuff after all.

"He did," Marlene put it.

"Right." Dana said.

"Look, whatever." Mary dismissed the discussion, "That's not the topic of this conversation. Why did it annoy you, Marls?"

"Don't call me that," Marlene began. "And why would I _want_ his attention?"

Mary raised first an eyebrow, and then one hand, "He's funny, he's handsome, you're single, he's single, he obviously likes you," she ticked each finger down.

Marlene's face screwed up in disgust, "He's _awful_."

"What's he ever done to you?" Mary asked petulantly. Dana listened, riveted.

"It's what he did to _you_!" Marlene retorted. "He used you."

Mary brushed her hair from her eyes, "He didn't do anything! He didn't fall in love with me, and wouldn't lead me on, so he broke up with me! It was the decent thing to do!"

"But _why_ couldn't he just love you?" Marlene exploded. "It's ridiculous!"

"Love doesn't work like that," Mary chided softly, laughing with a confused Dana – really, she only laughed to seem like she understood what they were talking about.

"Love doesn't work at all," Marlene grumbled snidely (Will, her heart beat).

Suddenly sensing that this conversation was too close to home for the blonde, Mary fought to change it smoothly, "Well, you don't have to fall in love with him. Have some fun, Marls ("Don't call me that")."

"Right," Dana said.

The Gryffindors, both had forgotten she was there, turned to her in astonishment. She blushed, gestured to the side and sidled off silently. Within metres she was surrounded by her own friends, whispering her tale to them as they all looked back over their shoulders.

Marlene waved them off sarcastically.

"Be nice," Mary chided.

It didn't really make a difference, what she had said then. It probably wouldn't have made a difference if they hadn't sent Dana and her friends away. Either way, it would have happened; and later they would both come to understand that.

Because, the thing was, as much as they had changed...some things about them – their similarities – were irreversible.

Marlene McKinnon and Mary MacDonald both had alliterate names beginning with M, they were both Gryffindors; and they were both Muggleborns.

"Yeah, be nice, Mudblood," a voice cut in.

Marlene knew the voice well: she had shared classes with it, it had taunted her; it turned her mood sour and her heart cold. But Mary...Mary had nightmares of that voice – crawling over her skin until she was unable to move, and those hands crawling over her, that body pressed against hers.

McNair smirked as they froze.

"Go away, McNair," Marlene reacted first, glaring at the boy – alone, for once; thankfully.

"With fucking pleasure!" The tall boy growled, "Your fucking presence disgusts me." He slunk off, around the shadowy corner, and Marlene watched him go with vehemence.

"Disgusting," she murmured under her breath, when they couldn't hear his footsteps any more. She turned back to her companion, took in the pale cheeks and slight breathing; she wrapped an arm around Mary's trembling shoulders, pulled her close and kissed her cheek. It made her feel good, comforting others instead of comforting herself.

Where was Sirius?

* * *

Hayley was late for Quidditch. She was late, James would be angry, but she didn't care all that much. Stupid Charms coursework was giving her grief, and surely her grades would mean more to her future than one measly Quidditch practice. She wished it were the other way around, but there was no denying that studies did count for something.

Her day hadn't gone well.

"Stupid Quidditch," Hayley grumbled, turning a corner sharply and barging through a group of tiny Ravenclaws (she was sure she'd never been that small) and glaring at them when they complained. Half way down the next corridor – Charms, coincidentally – she rethought her words, "Stupid Charms." There was a poster on her left depicting all the ways Charms would enrich lives, and Hayley accidentally maliciously set fire to it.

"Hayley!" Will reprimanded sternly. "Aguamenti," he put out the fire.

"Sorry," Hayley muttered, attempting to sidestep her rule-following contemporary.

"What do you think you're doing?" He demanded, "Don't you know that-"

"Maybe she's getting as rebellious as your little slut ex?" McNair put in his view, leaning against the wall further down the corridor.

Both Hayley and Will twirled to face him, drawing their wands; they found themselves on the receiving end of three.

"What did you call Marlene?" Will demanded, disregarding his less than optimistic position.

Hayley, on the other hand, glanced towards Quidditch practice and thought about putting her wand away. Sure, Marlene was fine, but she wasn't feeling especially loving towards her room-mate at that time, anyway.

"A slut," McNair drawled, pulling a mocking face at Avery, who giggled.

"Aw, that's cute," Hayley jumped in without thinking. "Giggling. Like a little girl." The words were out of her mouth, and then hung there a little while before Avery jerked to his feet, wand directed in her direction.

"You little bitch!" He snarled, but McNair stayed his hand.

"Not now," he cautioned in an order. He pushed his greasy hair from his eyes and smiled nastily. "Boys, do you know who I passed on the way down here?"

Hunter mumbled the negative response dutifully. Avery just glared at Hayley, who glared right back.

"The Mudbloods!" McNair cheered dramatically. "Isn't that nice?"

Will opened his mouth to argue, but Hunter's wand flicked to him and he closed it again, eyeing the wood warily.

"Do you want to know what we're going to do, now?" McNair asked the two Gryffindors rhetorically. "We're going to go upstairs, and finish what we started with the Mudblood whore last year."

The word stilled around Will as he automatically understood the horror of the words: silence fell, his fingers momentarily slackened on his weapon, his tongue curled inside his mouth, his eyes blurred. And then his brain caught up to him, and he put two and two together.

At the same time, McNair finished, "And then we'll do the same with the other Mudblood. It might not be such a chore now that she's not fat."

They were talking about Marlene, Will realised.

And then McNair was flying through the air before him, and he hadn't even realised that he'd done a spell but he must have because they were all staring at him as the body crumpled to the ground silently.

Sound rushed back in, and for the first time in his life Will was fighting; alongside Hayley, he took Hunter and she took Avery.

It would have worked better the other way around – of the two Gryffindors, Will was the better dualist, and of the two Slytherins Hunter was the worse. As Hayley fell beside him, Avery having made some horrible slashing movement with his wand, and Will faced the two, he knew he couldn't possibly win this.

As stars exploded behind his eyes he thought of Marls' smile.

* * *

When Lily reached the hospital wing, Sirius was the only one there. He sat with his feet up on a motionless Will's bed, a plate of food untouched on his lap and his Herbology essay half-way through being finished.

"How are they?" Lily asked breathlessly, dumping her bag next to Hayley's bed and soothing her hand over her friend's forehead.

"Fine," Sirius informed, slightly amused by the scene – he was sure that Hayley herself would not be grateful for the exaggerated concern, were she awake.

"What happened?" Was Lily's next question, and Sirius reluctantly put away his essay as he realised he would not be able to finish it that day.

Before he could tell the agitated red head, the door banged open again and the last two Gryffindor girls appeared in the doorway.

"What happened?" Mary called down the wing, stalking towards them furiously.

Marlene was less dignified, "Is he ok?" She ran.

Sirius swung his legs out of the way as Marlene flung herself over Will, mimicking Lily's earlier action and pressing her lips to his forehead with tears beading in her eyes.

Sirius and Lily exchanged surprised looks at the vehemence of her emotion.

"He's fine," Sirius promised, taking Marlene's hand and squeezing it briefly.

"So's she," Lily promised Mary, who hovered nervously at Hayley's side.

"What happened?" The brunette asked again.

"They got in a fight with McNair and a couple of others," Sirius gestured to McNair's similarly prone body at the other side of the room. No one spared him a look or a sympathetic thought.

"Which others?" Mary demanded, reaching for her wand as though she would fight them then and there. Lily caught her wrist briefly.

"We don't know," Sirius said quietly, "they weren't there when I found them."

"Where did you find them? _When_ did you find them?" Mary questioned.

"Mare!" Lily muttered quietly, and the brunette looked angrily towards her until Lily's expression made her rethink her tone of voice.

"Sorry," she muttered to Sirius, who shrugged her apology away with a slight, sad smile.

The conversation died between them – the sound punctuated only with Marlene's distressed murmurings to her silent love.

If Sirius was begrudging of this affection between the pair including the girl he had spent his whole summer with, he didn't show it; watching this, Lily understood for the first time that Sirius and Marlene honest to God had no romantic feelings for one another.

It was hard not to see that Marlene loved Will desperately, right now.

Stupid cow, squandering that when some people...Lily forced her thoughts from James, and the rounds the night before. Stupid cow.

As though she had summoned him, the hospital wing door swung open and admitted James, drenched through from the torrential rain and grumbling incoherently as he supported the weight of one of his Quidditch players. (Apart from Hayley, Kelt and Ellie, who she only knew because she had tutored her in Potions the year previously, she knew none of their names.)

He didn't notice them, watching his laborious journey, until he was halfway across the room, and he started and nearly dropped the boy when he did so.

"Merlin!" His hand twitched in the direction of his wand, but the movement was encumbered by the weight of his companion. Wincing slightly, he allowed him to flop onto a spare bed, hoisting his muddy boots onto the pristine white sheets. "You all having a party in here or something?"

He noticed the two occupants of the beds they surrounded, glanced around to find McNair and pieced things together; his teeth gritted, "Did you catch the others?" He asked them in general, and though they all shook their heads no one offered more.

"Who found them?" James asked next, concern ringing in his tone. His hazel eyes were narrowed, and he had forgotten about his sodden Quidditch getup sticking to his skin, although he was shivering.

"I did," Sirius said evenly.

James' eyes found somewhere above Sirius' shoulder rather than look at him directly, "Anything interesting?" His voice had reverted to regulation-Head-Boy; cool and inflectionless, as though he were some grand detective who had seen a thousand cases like this.

"They were all just exactly how they are now. McNair was further down the corridor, I assumed he'd been blown backwards by some pretty aggressive magic." Sirius said, as though he was reciting.

Lily heard Mary's teeth click behind her – a sure sign that she was irritated by something – and empathised with her; the two idiots were acting ridiculous. Everyone knew that they were only hurting themselves by maintaining the charade that they couldn't care less about one another.

James did look nice in that uniform, though. The way the wet material clung to his stomach, and how it was tight around the arms, and the red brought out the brightness in his eyes...

James looked to Hayley automatically, "What could she have been that angry about?" He mused aloud.

Madame Pomfrey bustled out of her little office, clucking her tongue, "Oh, it was the boy that did that particular spell. Though I'm not sure he did it intentionally." She shook her head in frustration, but didn't seem all that concerned by McNair's fate as she examined the Quidditch player.

"What happened to Rich?" Sirius asked, taking notice of James' companion for the first time.

"He took a pretty bad bludger," James said, distracted. "Did you say Will hurt McNair?" He asked Pomfrey in a bewildered tone.

Mary laughed aloud, but the amusement fell from her face when Madame Pomfrey nodded her approval of the question.

"Will hurt McNair?" Lily repeated.

"Will hurt McNair?" Sirius gaped.

"_Will_ hurt McNair?" Marlene whispered, her fingers stilling as they traced patterns on the boy in question's eyelids.

"Yes!" Poppy Pomfrey growled, "And why didn't you bring this poor boy here sooner? He's near enough contracted hypothermia!" This last she growled at James.

James held up his hands in his own defence, "I was held up breaking up a fight." He seemed to consider something, thinking aloud in awe: "I gave Reginald Cattermole a detention for fighting. _Reginald Cattermole_. And Will's landed someone in the hospital wing." He looked about at them all, "What is the world coming to?" He laughed without humour.

Lily laughed too, and his eyes found hers in an electric combination of desire, followed by shame. She lowered her face, cheeks burning, and felt his eyes leave her a moment later.

"What did you say?" Mary interrupted their moment, apparently oblivious to the sudden tension suddenly engulfing Lily.

"Merlin Mary, I didn't think," James said apologetically, tone even (Lily was sure hers would not be, if she spoke now). "I walked in on Reginald and Carmelius Malfoy going head to head a few minutes ago. Neither were hurt, but I had to give them both a detention."

Mary's mouth was open wide, "Reginald was fighting?" She didn't seem to understand.

James hummed his agreement, attention momentarily diverted as Pomfrey gave Rich a potion of some sort that made him cough a lot and wake up briefly. When he returned to them, they were still all waiting for more details.

"Let's see," James sighed, biting his lip as he thought and leaning against Will's bed ("Get off! You're wet!" Marlene growled). "I walked in to see Carmelius winning, definitely. Reginald had been disarmed, but after I disrupted them he admitted to having punched Malfoy-" Mary squeaked "-, causing quite a severe nosebleed, which I fixed. Then I sent Malfoy on his way, giving him a detention with McGonagall on Friday night. And then Reginald said..." James' voice trailed off, and he looked awkwardly at Mary.

"What?" She demanded. "What did he say?"

"He said that Malfoy had been insulting you, and he lost control of his temper," James said softly.

There was a hum of breath from Mary's lips as she absorbed this, and then everyone watched her turn back to Hayley.

"He got hurt because of me?" She asked rhetorically.

"He was defending you," James replied anyway. "I gave him a detention for tonight, and I'm supervising so I'll make him do something easy." He promised her.

She looked to him gratefully, but there were tears sparkling in her eyes.

They were interrupted by a stirring from Will, who sighed his eyes open to fix immediately on the blonde by his side. His lips curved into a smile even as she leant over him, and he winced from the pain of trying to sit up.

"Marls," he whispered, voice cracking, hand reaching for her.

With pain in his side and love in his heart, her heart shaped face ringed with the light from above, hair spilling over her shoulders and a soft, happy little smile splitting her face wide, Will Selwyn had never seen anything more beautiful than Marlene McKinnon. His fingers found hers and held on tight, and that spark of attraction, and that light responding in her infinite blue eyes, made him forget everything of the last four months; the pain of loss was replaced by the flourish of love.

"I love you," he told her, straight, and her smile became just a little wider.

"So, we're just going to leave you in peace?" James said loudly, gesturing to the door and leading the rush to leave the lovers alone together.

"I love you," Will repeated, and – unable to refrain any longer – Marlene brought her mouth down over his. There had never been a kiss as sweet, as lovely, as that of two reunited.

"I love you, too," she whispered happily, when she pulled away.

* * *

"Well. That's that, I guess," Lily laughed gaily, duly ecstatic for her friend. She threw her arms around Mary and squeezed tight for a minute, before releasing the shocked girl with a laugh.

"About time!" Sirius agreed (further proof of the lack of caring between them, if it was needed).

"Cheers to that!" James chipped in.

Mary didn't continue the trend, "I have to find Reginald," she excused herself, hurrying away. "Make sure Hayley's okay!" She called back at the end of the corridor, face screwed up with worry and fear in her usually clear eyes. She kicked off her heels, and ran around the corner and out of sight.

"I'll be heading of, too," Sirius started. "Now that Will's got...company," he phrased it delicately, but both of his companions smirked at his sarcastic tone.

"I'll come with you, actually," James put in, surprising all three of them. Lily stared at him, Sirius stared at the floor, and James shrugged his shoulders. "Rich'll be fine, it was just a bludger, and I need to pack the rest of the Quidditch things away."

Sirius swallowed, "Right then. Shall we?" He gestured awkwardly, and the two of them set of together, uneasy silence surrounding them and a dumbfounded redhead left behind.

"I can't believe that Reginald punched Malfoy," Sirius said, when the tension was too much for him (James was surprised he wasn't humming by now, as he usually did when he didn't like his circumstances).

"Why not?" James replied brusquely.

Sirius must have heard the tone – more to the point, he had known James long enough that he must have known it for a dismissal – but he soldiered on anyway, "It's hardly in character. I bet the boy's never been in trouble or punched anyone in his life."

"Anyone would punch someone insulting someone they were in love with," James muttered.

Sirius stared ahead, aware that the subject was on thin ice above a lake of piranhas, "Mary must be beating herself up about it."

James didn't answer, and eventually Sirius considered the conversation dropped. They walked in silence through the familiar corridors – avoiding any shortcuts so that they could avoid any unwanted memories of better times – until they reached the point in which they had to part.

"See you," Sirius muttered, heading for the marble staircase. He didn't expect a reply from James, heading out of the double doors into the cool night air. He definitely didn't expect what James did say.

"Why?" James called, and when Sirius turned he saw that the teenager had one foot on the stair down before spinning around to question, apparently unable to help himself.

"Why what?" Sirius pretended not to understand.

James condescending frustration was enough to shatter that reality.

"There isn't an excuse," he mumbled, descending the steps. "I was just really, really scared."

James shook his head, "Of what, Pads? Of what?"

Sirius took a deep breath. He thought of his mother, screaming abuse, and his father's heavy hand. He thought of his brother and his cold heart. He thought of the house he grew up in, doused in moonlight at Sirius backed away.

And he thought of James' infectious laughter, that first day on the train; his firm belief in proving oneself. He thought of each and every prank, of holidays in France or England, of Christmas presents under a tree and scrap fights at midnight, waking everyone up. He thought of four legs, and eating their second dinner in the kitchens, and ad hoc unevenly sided Quidditch games.

"Losing you," he replied honestly. James would know if he lied, anyway. "I overheard you and Evans that night, and Evans was telling you to ditch me. And I'd just walked away from Regulus. And we hadn't been _close_, you know, for some time. I was lonely, and terrified."

James rolled his eyes, "You're a prat."

Sirius paused, and then nodded, "Well yes." James didn't smile.

"I told Lily I'd never give you up. I told her you were the best friend I'd ever had and that you'd do anything for me." James informed him, throat choking around the brittle words.

"I would," Sirius said quietly.

"No," James disagreed, "You'd do anything for you. And you just thought we would always want the same things."

Sirius looked away, cowed by the unruly truth of his words.

"I loved her." James said quietly.

"I didn't," Sirius replied, and James laughed harshly because did Black really think that made it better? "And I know that doesn't make it better." Sirius finished.

James looked at the boy for a long time.

"I'm so angry at you," he said finally. "Every time I see you, I see you kiss her; every time I think about you I feel the shock; every time that I see _her_ I want to storm away. I am so, unbelievably angry with you."

"I know," Sirius said again. "I would do anything to take it back."

James sat down on the step, looking out over the grounds, "I nearly kissed her last night, you know?"

Sirius cautiously took a seat beside him, taking it as a good sign that James didn't squirm away from the proximity, "When?"

"During rounds," James admitted. "We were talking and I leant in and she pulled away."

Sirius was sure that wasn't the full story, but he was well aware he had lost his right to ask. "Are you ok?" Was what he said, instead.

James rolled the answer around on his tongue, "Yeah, surprisingly. I'm just kind of tired, you know?"

"Of pretending," Sirius murmured.

James shook his head, "Of waiting."

James never had been good at that.

"Anyway," James got to his feet, smiling awkwardly, evidently past his sharing mood. He glanced around rather than look at Sirius, turned to trek down to the pitch.

"Don't forgive me!" Sirius called after his retreating back. James froze. "Don't you dare forgive me," Sirius begged, and tears spilled down his face for all to see. Tears...he hadn't cried over anyone else, ever.

James turned back, took in the boy's desperate expression, "Goodbye, Padfoot."

"See you, Prongs," Sirius whispered, when James was far out of range.

* * *

"I can't believe I'm holding you," Will marvelled, tucking Marlene's head under his chin and stroking her hair although it hurt his ribs – what had they done to him? – to move too much.

"I can't believe how much I love you," she returned, craning up to kiss him softly.

"I can't believe how much you love me," Will laughed, pushing more passion into the kiss.

Marlene squirmed away, "You know we'll have to have a proper talk, sometime. Obviously not right now, because, well..." she gestured to the bandages wrapped around his exposed chest.

Will nodded seriously, "Of course. Whatever you want."

Marlene smiled at that.

Silly Will: she already had exactly what she wanted.

She curled into his side again.

* * *

_The Evening Previously_

He didn't think he'd ever been this close to her.

Her eyes fluttered shut, her body raised onto tiptoes.

His fingers brushed the indent of her waist, just gently.

He leaned in.

There was a drum roll of expectancy between them when the air warmed with their mutual breaths and her fingers trembled on his chest and his eyes began to close.

Then Lily pulled away, dropping back to the floor, arms flying from him as she ducked out of his arms. Her cheeks were burning and her heart was a ricocheted pulse.

"I'm sorry," she stammered, "I don't know what came over me."

James stared at her gormlessly for a moment, trying to make sense of what was going on and what it meant and what the fuck he was meant to say.

"It's fine," he stuttered at last, having no real understanding of what those words meant.

Lily shook her head, eyes damp, "No, it's not. It's just that...Look, I like you. You're a good friend, and I like spending time with you but...I don't want a relationship. Not with you, not with anyone, and I couldn't bear to lead you on."

James blinked at her.

"Jesus," Lily turned away, hand screwed into her hair in frustration, "Why is everything so complicated?"

James smiled at that, and shrugged. He was beginning to get it: words were beginning to sink in and his heart was beginning the familiar sink down.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again, and he didn't reply.

Lily turned to go, thought better and faced him again, awkwardly, "I know this is horrible. I have no right to ask, but: please don't tell anyone."

James' jaw clenched with a pain he had hoped never to feel again; he was well practiced at showing the world it didn't exist, "I'm hardly likely to boast about rejection, Evans." He joked.

It wasn't funny, but Lily laughed loudly.

"I won't tell anyone," James promised.

Once, he would have told Sirius; now, he was alone.

"I'm sorry," she said for the final time.

"Don't be." He replied.

It wasn't until she'd been gone a while – long after he'd sunken to his knees on the cold tiles of the corridor – that he realised he, too, was relieved. He wasn't ready, either; he was a damaged bloke who came with far too much baggage and several items in package deal – it would never have been fair to ask Lily to put up with him. And it wasn't like she liked him, anyway.

Not like he liked her.

* * *

**Okay, so I hope you liked it: rattled these two out in quick succession, like I said, so they haven't been proofread - send me a message if there're any unforgivable mistakes.**

**Thoughts on: Will/Marlene/Sirius; James/Lily; Sirius/James; Mary/Reginald - basically anything I've written about in this chapter, it's quite pivotal, overall.**

**Thank you for reading! Reviews will encourage a James and Sirius reunion!**


	13. Of Drinking

**Another quick chapter - written and set up when I should definitely be asleep, and it's more than likely that there are a billion errors in it**, **but I'm pretty sure that all the content in it is right. Hopefully. If not I'll edit it, later, but I think it is. Whatever. I'm tired.**

* * *

There was a sense of fragile balance in the girls dormitory the day after. Marlene, skipping around – her short blonde hair flying haphazardly around her delighted smile – and singing as she got ready; Mary having not returned the night previously. Hayley was back with them, only slightly disgruntled that only Lily had been there to receive her when she woke (she refused to count Marlene, as all she really saw of her was a wave of her hand and her back as she giggled with Will). And Lily, yo-yoing between Marlene's sunny behaviour and Mary's lack of appearance and a pair of lips hovering close to hers but far out of reach.

It was with little surprise that the rest of the school received the news of the reunion. Marlene and Will were such a solid foundation to school life; even if they flew well below the social radar. They were just...that couple in seventh year, the one which was obviously true love and which surely hadn't really for real split up, had they? No, it was just a glitch – a momentary pause in a fruitful and glorious relationship. Obviously.

Lily followed them from lesson to lesson – the two girls had very similar time tables – and she was happy for them...

"-But it's such a slap in the face, isn't it?" She commented to James later on, as they sat side by side in the Head's office and pretended to work on the plans for the next Hogsmeade trip. She was slouched all the way back, her tie discarded onto the floor and her hair tied up.

Smirking – leaning against the arm of the sofa they shared so he could watch her rant – James said dryly, "You've just got such a big heart, Evans."

She shot him a joking dirty look, "You know what I mean."

"You're happy for them, but you wish they wouldn't flaunt it in your face," James summarised, putting on a high falsetto that in no way matched Lily's own voice.

She slapped his arm, "Shut up!"

"But I'm right, right?"

She conceded grudgingly, rubbing her jaw, "Stupid happy pricks."

James laughed at her, "Spend more time around Mary if you want to see how the other half lives," he recommended, and some of the lightness went from his voice as he did.

Lily looked at him sharply, "Have you seen her?" She asked, sitting up and staring at him.

James looked away, "Not really," he supplied evasively, "But that's as much an answer as anything, isn't it?"

Lily blinked, "What are you talking about?"

James looked at her, then, and it was her turn to avert her eyes, "Mary's not here, Reginald's a no-show, but they're not together? How do _you_ think that conversation went?"

Lily's brow furrowed, "But he fought for her."

James hummed – something Lily knew by now meant that he was conceding a point – but spoke again, "So did Hayley, and look what happened there."

"She's angry with _Hayley_?" Lily asked, confused.

James rolled his eyes, "Of course not, don't be stupid. But Hayley's _Hayley_ – we expect anger from her; we expect her to get into fights and strike out and end up in the hospital wing three times a week."

Lily laughed at that, because it was so true.

"But Reginald..." James continued softly. "That boy...he's never hit anyone in his life. He's never broken a rule. He wouldn't say boo to a goose and everyone knows it. And then Mary swans into his life and..."

"And he's not that guy anymore," Lily sighed out.

"Right."

The silence loomed around them, broken only by the crackle of the fire; it was a strangely still night.

"Do you think he'll be alright?" Lily asked finally, her fingers knotted together in an imitation of her stomach's actions.

James gave her an unreadable look, "I'm sure he'll get over it." He curled up the parchment he had been doodling on, "Shall we get out of here, we're never going to finish this tonight."

Lily agreed wholeheartedly, bounding to her feet and scooping her tie into her pocket. She tossed her own drawings (superior to his, she noticed; James' were terrible) into the fire, and then threw his in too, much to his protest. She waited for him to get ready, which seemed to take an age as she jiggled from foot to foot , tapping her thigh with her hands in an uneven beat.

"Hurry up!" She moaned, thoroughly bored by the ritual of shutting away the office so that it would be ready for the next use.

"You could help, you know," James pointed out, sliding the fire grate back into place; he looked at her like he was pleasantly surprised by her jitteriness. His smile was soft and sweet.

"Meh meh meh _meh,_ meh meh," Lily parroted childishly. James laughed the belly rumble that made Lily's stomach clench uncomfortably, and she fairly skipped out of the door as he moved towards her.

"Why are you so agitated?" James asked, locking up and slipping the key – which he kept on a plain silver chain – around his neck and under his shirt for safe keeping.

"Just...restless...you know?" She fought for the right words.

She wanted to _do_ something; she wanted to _go_ somewhere and _do_ something and forget the consequences – adrenaline rushed through her automatically and she twirled where she stood, her hair flying all over. When she stopped, breathing heavily, James was watching her with a serious, peculiar expression on his face.

"What?" She asked self-consciously, brushing her hair down.

James just shook his head, smiling wryly, "Absolutely nothing in the world." He led her down the corridor, and by the time they reached the end Lily's laughter had driven the incident clean out both of their minds.

The mood in the common room was festive. Perhaps it was the quietness of the evening – they had horrible howling wind for the past few days and everyone was looking forward to a decent night's sleep – or maybe the upcoming Quidditch match, which Rich was eagerly telling all would be a phenomenal success; it could have been the two figures tucked into each other's little worlds in the corner, far from out of sight but seeing no one but the other.

The first years giggled, the fourth years tossed their essays to one side daringly, the seventh years giggled.

As Lily and James stumbled through the door together (they both tried to go through at the same time, and their shoulders jarred together and James won the brief struggle only to be reprimanded for not letting the lady go first, jokingly), Marlene and Adam became aware of the little scene, and turned to watch.

"That's not true!" Lily was hiccupping between her laughter, a hand pressed to her face in a ridiculous attempt to suppress the involuntary action.

"Totally true!" James insisted, setting down both bags onto the floor beside the nearest armchair.

"What's true?" Marlene chipped in, uncurling her legs from around Will's and strolling over.

"You won't believe it," Lily warned, and she found herself wishing that James wouldn't tell Marlene and Will his tale; she wanted it to be hers, for now.

"I tend not to believe what he says," Will said cheerfully, wrapping his arms around Marlene's waist and resting his head on her shoulder. She lolled back into his arms, allowing him to support her completely.

James looked at the two, across at Lily, towards the stairs to his dorm; he listened to the contented tittering of the masses ignoring them, "Right," he began authoratitively, "We're going out."

Three pairs of eyebrows shot up, "Going out?" Will repeated.

James nodded, holding up a few fingers to indicate that he needed only a couple of minutes and taking the stairs two at a time.

When he was out of sight, Marlene turned to Lily, "What's this?"

Lily shrugged, "How should I know?"

"I have things to do, I'm not going out tonight!" Will insisted.

"We all have things to do," James reappeared, hustling them towards the doorway, "procrastinate a bit, why don't you." The slap of cold air in the corridor revived Lily enough to argue.

"James, we're supposed to set an example," she reminded him, catching his arm and giving him her favourite – his favourite, too – stern look.

James rolled his eyes, "Which is why we're going where no one will see us."

"Not the point." Lily muttered, but followed him – along with their two companions – towards the nearest exit.

"I'm not leaving school grounds!" Marlene called. "It's too risky!"

"Won't be a problem!"

"Potter, I don't think-" Will started, but was cut off as James whirled around to face them.

"Look. You two-" he made a rough gesture at Will and Marlene "-should be celebrating, and you-" he pointed at Lily "-need to live a little! I promise that nothing untoward will happen, tomorrow's the weekend so there's no classes for you to be hung-over in and frankly I need a holiday."

No one pointed out that they had been back in school only a few short weeks, and, as they looked between the three of them, each felt something stirring in the pit of their stomach that might have been the thrill of eager anticipation.

"Fine," Marlene grumbled.

"Whatever," Lily sighed.

"If we must," Will agreed grudgingly.

James beamed, "Excellent."

They were all a little excited when they got to their destination. A feeling which completely and utterly was vanquished when they saw exactly where they were.

"A broom closet?" Marlene asked, her voice laced with disappointment.

"Is this a joke?" Will said, and his words were – to anyone who truly listened – the same as hers.

James rolled his eyes again, "You people have no faith."

Like an old school muggle magician James pulled the door wide, gesturing with a sweeping gesture to the inside of the closet, herding them all inside.

"This is the worst plan ever." Lily grimaced, though no one saw in the dark.

"Can we turn a light on?" Will muttered.

"No!" James refused, his voice free of any ire; he was enjoying himself, and he didn't care who knew it. His hand brushed the small of Lily's back not entirely by accident, and the contact burned both of them; neither made any noise.

The three clueless Gryffindors of the four huffed for a moment, their interest quickly diminishing as they listened to the unnerving sounds of James' muttering, too low for them to understand but loud enough that they tried.

"Done!" He announced a minute or so later, "Get out, get out!" He ordered.

Will was the one who, after an automatic pause of surprise, took charge, "Well wasn't this little adventure fun?" He growled, stalking the short step to the door and flinging it open – if the noise woke Filch then he would make Potter explain; he was going to bed.

"What was-" Marlene began, but her words cut off with a startled cry as the inky blackness of the outside greeted them.

James allowed their location to sink in for a moment, "You're welcome." He pushed the two girls out into the cold, joining them and handing everyone a bottle of amber liquid that he refused to name.

"How did you do that?" Lily asked him, hugging close to the wall so no one – if they were wandering the corridors at night themselves – would see from the far windows.

He winked at her - a movement she nearly missed in the dimness. They took a swig of alcohol at the same time, and Marlene smiled, watching them.

"So what's the plan?" Lily asked the couple, turning half around to face them and coming up with a literal blank – the two had faded silently into the dark, unseen and unheard and it was enough to make her pause.

"I'll go check," James mumbled, and he followed them, being swallowed up himself before Lily could protest.

"Typical." She mumbled.

"Isn't it just?" Snape replied.

Lily started, but didn't face him; she could only too well imagine his expression – the stony eyes and the stonier jaw line. He would be here. Where else could he be, but polluting this evening with James?

"What, are you best friends now?" Snape snarled out, and his fingers gripped her arm almost savagely.

When she made no answer he continued, "Haven't we spoken about this before? And wasn't I right, then, too?"

Lily's mind raced back to another conversation, a life time ago.

_You used to think he was arrogant_.

"But then," Snape bit on ruthlessly, "you ignored me then, too. You picked him over me." He couldn't hide from the accusation in his voice, the hurt, and it was this, finally, that made Lily turn around.

Snape's face was obscured by the shadows of the wall, a mere breath of a person that could easily be missed; it made what she was saying easier (though it was surprisingly easy anyway).

"I didn't pick him over you before," she said calmly. "He wasn't even an option: I hated him. And then we both grew up. I'm picking him now." She blinked at the shadow that was her old best friend. "I want you to go. I want you to never bother me again."

Maybe it was the inflectionless tone in her, the emptiness, the person void of emotion; maybe she dreamt up the whole encounter; either way, when she refocused, Snape was not there.

She put out her hand, and it came into contact with the greasy stone of the castle. She leant her head against it.

"So! You really don't want to interrupt what they're up to right now!" James' voice, utterly unashamed and not even trying to hide its rule-breaking-shenanigans, cut in from the dark.

Again, Lily jumped; her heart thrummed a rough beat, "So, what are we doing now?"

James fixed her with his kaleidoscope eyes, "Evans...whatever you want."

* * *

Will could barely see Marlene in the enveloping darkness, but he could feel her hand clasped in his and feel her laughter pierce his heart as they crept along the edge of the lake to the sandy part that allowed them to collapse, gasping, together on the floor.

Marlene rolled on top of him, her hair framing their faces when they were this close, and he breathed in the smell of her deeply.

"This is ridiculous," she whispered, bending in for a deep kiss. Her tongue swirled with him, her teeth tugged his lower lip, her fingers found his belt buckle.

He didn't arch into her, instead he tugged her into him, "Insane."

"Reckless."

"Idiotic."

"Moronic."

"Infantile."

"...Exciting as hell?"

Will laughed gaily, "Well, yes, that too."

Marlene stopped tracing shapes – their initials, actually – into the skin of his stomach and set back to squint down at where his face was.

"What is it?" Will asked, a disembodied voice.

Marlene stroked his face gently, finding his lips with her fingers and pulling away as she felt them give way, "I'm sorry for what I put you through this summer."

There was a breath, and then Will, too sat up, slipping his arms around her and holding her close, burrowing into the warmth of her neck, kissing her jaw. She cradled his head closer, murmuring apologies.

"Don't be sorry." Will replied, finally. His voice was quiet, but strong, and when he looked up the moon graced them with an appearance from behind the thick clouds and she saw his eyes shine with conviction. "Never apologise to me, Marlene. Not ever."

She kissed him briefly, for the sentiment, "But I hurt you."

Will seized her cheeks, cupping her face and talking fervently, "Marlene, there were two of us in that relationship. And if it wasn't right for you at the time, it simply wasn't right. And, yes, it hurt like hell, but how can I be upset when I'm right here with you, tonight."

Marlene wasn't sure what to say to that. Where to begin. How to tell him about the roiling emotions inside of her. How to enumerate the number of pains she had put herself, through, too; and that hurting him was the worst of them.

Will continued, breathless, "The way I see it I'm lucky for every moment I spend with you. It's more than most people get ever, and here I am, with it. So losing you...it sucked, yes; but I still _had_ you. I was still the luckiest bloke on earth."

This time, when he stopped, Marlene was sure that he expected her to talk, and she struggled around the lump building in her throat, "I love it when you talk common," she whispered, and kissed him hard. "You make me so incredibly happy," she promised him.

Marlene had read every romantic book under the sun. She had flown through every classic, read the ancient, timeless love stories and adored them, devoured Shakespeare, Austen, Bronte. She knew romance – she always had the right words – words that were close to poetic at times – words that inspired generations – and they had always been enough. Now she could not remember how Darcy told Lizzy that he loved her. She clean forgot what it was that Jane liked about Mr Rochester. She could not tell you why exactly Arthur and Guinevere were soul-mates.

"I love you so fucking much," she told him; and that said it all.

* * *

"I swear this is dangerous," Lily called, for what must be the tenth time, up the rickety stairs of the Quidditch stands, to where James hovered invisible. She didn't like these stairs in the middle of the day, never mind on an especially dark night when she was slightly tipsy and with James Potter for company...though admittedly, the alcohol helped calm her nerves just as much as she knew it should worry her.

"Dangerous shmangerous," James replied ominously, his voice taking on the reckless tone that Lily remembered from years ago. It brought a smile to her face.

"We're nearly there, anyway," James informed her, and she felt the structure jolt under her feet as he leapt up the final few stairs and landed hard. Her hand gripped the railing harder and she sent him a glare that went unnoticed.

"Why are we here, again?" She asked, and then James' hands were on her wrists and he pulled her up to join him.

Lily had never been this high on the stands before – they were reserved for Quidditch fanatics who arrived far too early and stayed up at the parties far too late. She herself took a modest perch half way down, where she could see well enough and was safe if she fell.

She felt James shrug through his hands, still wrapped around her arms, "It's a bonding exercise, Evans. Step out of your comfort zone."

"I already was," Lily replied, but allowed him to pull her right to the edge and sit with their legs dangling precariously.

He, in return, allowed her to set up a were-light, rotating gently around the pair and illuminating everything in a five metre radius in a mystical silver.

Lily studied him intently, "You don't look very cheerful." She noted.

He didn't look at her – he lay back, stretching his arms far above his head, "This used to be where Sirius and I came to forget, together."

"Did you use his body?" Lily asked without thinking, eliciting a delicious laugh.

"That's sick, Evans," James chuckled. "He's my best friend."

Lily hesitated, and chose not to point out the use of the present tense. The meaning of all this was already weighing heavily on her mind.

"So if you didn't have crazy animal sex, what did you do?" She asked, and this time she had only the masquerade of a joke.

James stared at the clouds, far above, "I don't even remember, really. We just...I don't know."

Lily thought of James and Sirius, and their easy, carefree relationship that casually obliterated everything around them. It wasn't healthy...not for the rest of the world, trying to compete.

"I ran into Snape today," she said instead, and felt James' eyes search her face for the question he should ask.

"Are you ok?" He settled on.

It was Lily's turn to shrug, "Yes, actually. It's been so long...eventually I just stopped thinking about how much I missed him. And today...I realised I didn't any more. I couldn't care less, except as a memory."

James' steady breathing remained calm for a moment before he spoke again, "I never understood the two of you, if I'm honest."

Lily laughed harshly, "Oh, gee, I'd never have guessed that."

"I'm serious!" James insisted, pulling his feet from the edge, rolling onto his side and propping himself onto his elbow, brow furrowed as he spoke to her. "You had nothing in common! He was a psycho, dark, angry Slytherin and you were this vibrant, bubbly, enthusiastic Gryffindor!"

"Bubbly?" Lily objected.

"Well...back then," James teased. "But focus. Explain."

Lily was abruptly irritated, "Well, how well did that having things in common work for you? Oh, wait, look, you don't have _your_ best friend either."

The beat of James' huff of laughter was off, but that was the only way she knew she'd upset him.

"I'm sorry," Lily apologised instantly, "that was out of order."

..."But true."

Lily didn't want to say yes, but she couldn't say no. Her silence screamed her reluctance, and James fought to keep the miserable smile on his face.

"Sirius and I... we were like the same person. And it was just...I could be anyone I wanted to be, around him, and the more time I spent with him the more I decided I wanted to be _me_. And then he...and now I don't know if I want to be me anymore." James swallowed.

"Snape and I were nothing alike. But we both couldn't wait to get away. He thought things would be better here and I just _dreamt_. Neither of us got we wanted...but I thought that he would be happy anyway, like I was. Eventually I just realised that I couldn't let him stop me being happy anymore."

"Sirius could make me laugh no matter what mood I was in. I could storm in wanting to hit anything and the sight of his face would just remind me that it was all ok."

"Snape reminded me that the world I wanted didn't have to be found in pages."

"I would have done anything for that bloke."

"I wouldn't." Lily hugged her knees to her chest. "But I did a damn lot. I stopped being friends with my sister for him."

James slid an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close into his side, and the two of them rested, emotionally exhausted.

"He sucked." Lily said finally. "And that's the worst of it."

James laughed, "He rocked. And _that's_ the worst of it." And then Lily joined in, and they laughed together until both were crying; neither of them found it funny, but they'd had a lot to drink and a long week.

"Fuck it. I'm forgiving him," James took a swig.

"Fuck it." Lily agreed, copying.

* * *

Remus Lupin staggered up the final steps from the Hospital Wing, grateful that the common room was busy enough for no one to notice the weary boy as he made his way through the crowd and into his room. The door clicked shut behind him, and he leant his head back against it. The hardness of the wood hurt his sensitive scalp, the noises from below grated in his head; but he'd made it. He was ok. No one had found out.

"You ok, mate?" Sirius' voice asked from his bed in the corner.

Remus allowed his head to loll to the side and he quirked the edge of a lip up in what could possibly be if you were blind an agreement.

Sirius pulled a face in return, "Do you want me to crack open the marshmallows?"

Remus smiled genuinely then, nodding pathetically and accepting the jumper that Sirius lobbed at his head, crawling inside it and only noticing when he came out the other end that it had Potter splashed across the back.

That was just the way they had been: what was one's was all's.

"Where are James and Peter?" Remus asked, hopping onto Sirius' bed and crossing his legs there.

Sirius shrugged, "James appeared briefly, said he was going out with Evans and the happy couple, and Peter's still in the library trying to complete that Herbology assignment."

"With Lily?" Remus focused on the real situation, as always.

Sirius smirked, tossed him a few marshmallows, "If I'm honest, he wasn't exactly being communicative about it." Remus snorted at that. It hurt.

"Like you've ever needed him to be communicative," the young werewolf pointed out.

Sirius ignored him, "Look, was the transformation...well, obviously not okay, but...was it okay?" He took in the teen's sallow skin, his dry hair and his bloodshot eyes. He could see a long scratch peeking from under the jumper arm.

"It was okay." Remus said dryly.

Sirius looked down at his lap, tucked away his Sherlock Holmes book, ate a marshmallow – he avoided the white ones, because he knew they were Remus' favourite.

"I think I owe you an apology," he admitted, "about that. It's not fair that you have to suffer because of what I did."

Remus grimaced at the turn in conversation, "And what did you do, exactly?"

Pale grey eyes flew in confusion to Remus' own, "What do you mean?"

"Well," Remus began, feeling the remnants of the beast inside of him stirring for a fight, "you kissed a girl, am I right? You kissed a girl that James didn't have a chance with. Remember when he got with Georgie Price, when you were seeing her? Or Fenella? Or whats-her-face that time in London?"

Sirius gaped, "They're hardly the same!"

"Why the hell not?" Remus exploded. "The prat's being completely unreasonable about it! You _kiss_ one girl and he...he causes all of this." Remus' face screwed up in disgust.

Sirius was shaking his head, "It's not the same. Those girls...they were one in a million. Lily...we all knew how he felt about Lily." Remus had no argument for that, except...

"Do you really think he loves her that much? To do this to _all_ of us. Do you honestly think that he puts how he feels about Lily for how he feels about you?"

"Evidently so." Sirius said shortly, and turned away, getting up and heading to the bathroom where he splashed freezing water onto his face and gripped the marble sink so hard that the joints in his fingers ached.

"I always thought he'd do anything for you," Remus called through, not giving up.

He was so tired of this. He was tired of waking up in the morning and feeling like he wasn't even one of them; he was tired of thinking they didn't know he was there, that he wasn't as important, that what he lost wasn't just as much as what they lost.

"What do you want, Remus?" Sirius asked angrily, coming to stand silhouetted on the threshold. He glared furiously, shook the left over water from his hair like Padfoot would.

"I want one of you to man up and _fix things_!" Remus shouted.

"Why?" Sirius yelled back. "Why the hell would we do that? I _loved_ him, okay! I love him! And I'm still fucking able to do that! I don't _deserve_ forgiveness!"

"That's-"

"It's not crap! It's not bullshit! It's not ridiculous! You know, James literally changed my world. He changed the course my life was on and I should have spent forever making it up for him and instead..." Sirius trailed off, tugging his hair angrily (it was the same mannerism that James had, Remus noticed sadly). "You know, I've seen him cry over her more times than I can remember. I was the one that first of all assured him it would change, and then got angry because she was using him, and then assured him it would change again. I've fucking gone to her and asked her to think about it. I've spoken to her friends. Hell, I would have spoken to her parents if I thought it would change anything. Because I _know,_ okay? I know exactly how he felt, and I shoved that knife straight through his back into his heart."

Remus turned away, "It was one kiss."

"He was all I had. And I was all he had...I took everything from him." Sirius replied.

They stood, the two old friends, not looking at one another. Sirius looked around the room – at James' name splayed across Remus' back, at Remus' sweets on Sirius' bed, at the records that they had all bought together pinned on the walls, the Gryffindor scarves and that picture in pride of place.

Sirius crossed the room, flung open the door and stepped into the corridor.

And Remus, alone like everyone else, got into bed a cried for the first time since he had been bitten.

* * *

Mary hated the taste of alcohol.

It was a little known fact, but it was a fact none-the-less.

Something about it just...didn't sit right with her.

Of course, she hadn't liked make-up at first, but with her mother's dogged perseverance she'd learnt the error in that, and now – well, until recently – she was never seen without it. So maybe one day, if she drank enough, she wouldn't mind it so much; or she'd be dead, and neither option was all that bad, was it?

Mary took a swig, looked at her still half full bottle and threw it with all the force her thin arms could muster into the lake, watching it sink deep down and dreaming that she, too, could do just that. Sink, and have everything dissipate inside of her.

"Well, that was a tosser thing to do." Hayley commented, taking the seat next to Mary without being invited. She smirked at her own joke, raised her eyebrows at Mary, but quickly realised that there would be no returning laughter that evening.

"I just never really liked the way it sat on my face, you know?" Mary told her informatively.

"What?" Hayley asked.

Mary rolled her eyes: for God's sake, she knew the girl wasn't the smartest but did she really have to act so bloody dim all the time?

"Make-up," Mary enunciated clearly. "I never really liked it."

Hayley just stared, "Are you high?"

"It just never sat right on my face, you know?"

"How much have you _had_?" Hayley took in the stack of empty bottles beside her friend, counting silently and then chewing her lip in worry.

"I've passed out twice," Mary giggled, whispering.

"We're going inside." Hayley decided definitively, grabbing one arm and attempting to haul Mary to her feet. Try as she might, however, Hayley was only small; Mary, while slender, was quite tall.

"Weakling, weakling, you're totes a weakling," Mary chanted, and Hayley knocked the alcohol from her hand as she reached for another.

Hayley clenched her eyes shut, and retook the sitting position she had earlier vacated, "Mary, you need to sober up."

Mary fixed big brown eyes and dilated pupils on the other girl, "Give me one good reason."

"It's not healthy."

Mary snorted.

"You'll fail in school."

"School shmool."

"People are worried."

"But I'm _fine_."

"You look like shit."

Mary considered, repeating her make-up soliloquy and chewing over her mother's expression if she could see Mary's greasy, unwashed hair and face smeared with grime and tears.

"Screw that," she said finally.

Hayley grumbled in frustration, "Don't think I won't get Lily down here to drag your booty up!"

Mary giggled, "You said booty."

It was that which made Hayley finally realise: Mary wasn't even that drunk. Oh, she was over the limit, her inhibitions were lowered and all of that jazz; but Mary didn't _want_ to listen. She didn't want to think about what was right and what was expected, she wanted to wallow and languish and despair. Hayley had never seen her like this: not when the twins had left and she lost her best friends, not when her and Kyle broke up, not after Mulciber (the boy's name made her tremble with rage, though she still had a smattering a bruises from their encounter).

"You really like him, don't you?" She asked quietly.

When Mary failed to answer, Hayley reached out and twisted Mary's head around to face her.

Mary nodded, tears in her eyes, "He got targeted for being friends with me, Hales. Just think what would happen if we..."

I got targeted for being friends with you, Hayley wanted to remind her. She had felt keenly Mary's absence in the Hospital Wing the day before, and she still felt it now. But Mary was hurting and...Hayley might not be the most socially gifted of all of them, but she knew enough that now wasn't the right moment to press the point.

"Isn't it his choice to make, though?" She said instead – because out of habit she had to disagree with _something_.

"But he's done so much for me, and I wanted to do this thing for him, see?" Mary begged, suddenly clutching Hayley's hands for reassurance, desperate.

Hayley nodded, smiling comfortingly and hoping that Mary wouldn't notice the tears in her eyes.

Mary wasn't that drunk, though.

"What is it?" She asked, pulling Hayley's body closer to fix their eyes together.

Hayley wrapped her arms around Mary's larger frame, burying her face in her dirty neck and allowing the tears to fall, "I just want this _over_, Mare. It's so _stupid_."

Mary nodded.

When Hayley wasn't looking, she stealthily swiped her wand over the bottles, and they vanished to where she could never find them again. Life was hard enough without missing parts of it, she knew from experience; and Hayley needed her.

Reginald – _Reginald_ – she would simply have to work out.

* * *

**Okay, so, same as usual: lemme know what you think. Not really sure where I'm going with Mary/Reginald over the next few chapters, so if you have any ideas then let me know that, too. I hope I balanced out Mary's misery with Marlene and Will, and the Jily bonding, and hopefully you all get where Sirius was coming from, now, in the previous chapter now. Review, please! ~Meli**


	14. The Life and Times of James

**This is a helluva long chapter, so I'll keep this brief: hope you like it!**

* * *

**1959 - 1960**

When Gracie Potter became pregnant at sixty-four years of age, no one was more surprised than her and her husband. Enclosed in their lavish mansion, children had always been a plan when they were a young couple; Harold would rise high in the Ministry, and Gracie would have kids – they were like everyone else they knew. And when, as the years passed, no child was born Harold looked the other way out of fear of hurting his dearly loved wife, and Grace prayed. If there would be no heir, she knew, there would simply be no heir. God had a plan, and she was happy to go along with it if it meant she could be with Harold forever.

Harold _did_ rise high in the Ministry, sweeping through the ranks until he reached the goal he had aspired towards since he was only little himself: Head of the British Enforcement of Magical Law. He wore sharp, pressed suits; he conducted interviews. Every single day, Harold Potter made choices that saved lives – Grace was proud of him, _he_ was proud of him, their little boy was forgotten.

And then, out of the blue, Grace was tearfully telling the good news, and Harold was laughing because he couldn't quite believe it. But the Healers, and then Grace's thickening figure, confirmed their belief, and quite before they thought what to do next James was born, all black hair and whirling, tiny fists.

Harold cradled his baby in his large hands the way Grace had instructed and found all the features that could be his, everything that was Grace; it was incredible, the harmony of their features in this tiny being, and his heart swelled with emotion.

"You're a miracle, both of you," he told them, kissing his wife tenderly, their child nestled between their old chests.

The words were splashed across the headlines the next day: the nation's saviour was revealed to have a heart, and just like that he became a hero. There were a smattering of articles on little James, hundreds of presents sent to various addresses in his honour, and when all the fuss died down – some two months after he was born – Harold went back to work and Gracie stayed at home with their young son.

* * *

**1977**

James could feel the aching chasm beneath him; he could feel every whisper of a meaningless ripple, every tremor in the air around him. With his eyes closed he knew the space from himself to the ground as infinite. James thrilled in it.

"Potter! You'll freeze!" Hayley called, circling several score metres below him and squinting up at the brilliant gray overcast sky.

That much was true. James could feel the damp in the air sinking through the light weight of his shirt, his thighs trembling on the wood of the broom, the frigid, high altitude air raising goose-bumps along his neck line.

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes.

The girl was soaring down now, in a deep dive that was impressive to most people; it made James smile, because she was really quite talented, his Hayley.

Really quite talented but...

James tipped his broom downwards, sharply, and fell; he shot directly downwards, vertical, wind whipping his hair and his faced pressed into the shaft of the broom so that he was more streamlined: every part of him was aligned, pressed neatly into position and he moved so fast that space blurred. Hayley shot past, the ground rushed towards him and James smiled in the centre of his storm. He pulled the broom up sharply, screaming silently to a halt a mere half metre from the floor.

One half a millisecond more and he would be dead.

He didn't smile at that – he didn't _want_ to be dead – but nevertheless adrenaline pierced through him.

"Are you trying to kill yourself?" Hayley demanded, swooping down to dismount beside him. She punched him hard in the arm, but he barely noticed because his arms were so numb. "That was idiotic!"

James shook his head at her kindly, "I've practiced over water a million times, H-dog," he promised her, mussing her hair up and wrapping his arms around her to keep them both warm. She snuggled into his chest automatically – it was cold, after all – and slid her arms around his own waist.

"Don't do anything stupid," she muttered, knowing he wouldn't listen.

James pulled away, and Hayley instantly missed the feeling of his arms around her. And then she thought of Kingsley, and relaxed.

"I don't really get how you're so good at Quidditch, you know," Hayley started conversationally, as they headed towards the changing rooms to put on some dryer clothing. "You just...well, that stop for instance. Anyone else would have died."

"I practiced," James reminded her.

"So?" Hayley shot back, and James smiled at her.

"You just...the way you do everything...it's like you _are_ the game. You do it all without thinking and you do it so well and everyone else has to scurry along behind picking up the pieces. It's...phenomenal."

"You're making me blush, H-dog," James said dryly. "I just _practice_ a lot."

"Oh, and I'm sure natural talent has nothing to do with it." Hayley grumbled, and held the door open for him to go through first.

The wind was picking up outside, and the sky was darkening though it was still early; Hayley glanced at it suspiciously as she ducking into the panelled changing rooms.

James had pulled his shirt over his head and discarded it into one corner, and she took a moment to admire the smooth golden planes of his back; his shoulders rolled as he lifted a new top over his head; he had more than one scar, and this thought made Hayley consider saying something.

"How are you so tanned?" She swatted him, instead.

James sent her a fresh look, and she remembered the house in France he had stayed in all summer, blushing.

"So what's the pl-" Hayley began to ask, changing the conversation quickly as she entered a shower stall and pulled her top over her head; she was interrupted by a patronus bounding through the wall beside her, causing her to shriek.

Hayley clutched a hand to her chest briefly, trying to forcibly slow her heart, and then shrugged into her Quidditch hoodie and exited.

The animal – it was a house rabbit, Hayley saw now – was talking in low tones to James, who listened with evident unease. When it dissolved, it took a moment for him to look at Hayley, and when he did his eyes were alight.

* * *

**1963 - 1965**

Grace went back to work herself when James was three, for the first time.

It wasn't a planned event: she was only a junior worker in the Auror department; she filed and filled forms for those who went out and risked her lives, and she was proud of her aid. So it wasn't as if she _couldn't_ work from home, if they needed her: a couple of times they'd sent her a stack of information and empty sheets, after a particularly busy weekend (and this was usually received gratefully, because when the Aurors were busiest it meant that Harold was most likely to be in danger, and she liked to be busy when that was happening so she didn't have to think about what could happen...).

This time was a little different.

She was sitting in the kitchen, finger painting when the first letter arrived.

Or, rather, James was throwing paint around and she was cooing over the results, thinking to herself that when he was working in the Ministry he could have a hobby as an abstract artist.

It was a brief, hurriedly scribbled note from her best friend in the firm – the woman who shared a cubicle next to hers and was forty years younger – telling her about the crisis in the copying room (it appeared that someone had blown up the area, and they were all quite at a loss on how to proceed as everything was righted). Gracie turned her back on the youngster, using one of his sheets of parchment to reply with instructions, and forgot about it when James splayed his chubby young fingers – covered in an unseemly array of bold colours – across the back of her expensive robes.

Grace didn't swear – because she had been raised properly – she just cuddled her energetic little child to her, making herself far messier in the process, and sang him the first song that came into her head. Music calmed James, she knew.

Later on, the second owl came – more complaints, more stressing out, and more, Gracie thought snidely to herself, being stupid.

"You could do a better job yourself, couldn't you?" She whispered to James, and ducked to avoid the food that he threw at her, giggling his little baby gurgle.

"Lemons?" She called, and with a loud crack – James shrieked, he didn't like the loud sound – they were joined by a third being; a house elf that was completely bald but was wiry and strong and full of bubbliness, despite her name.

"Ma'am?" The elf bowed deeply, sweeping a chucky wrist across her waist and smiling with brilliantly white, abnormally large teeth.

"Could you clear that up?" Grace begged, shrugging into a cleaner set of robes that she had stashed for an emergency and kissing James on the head. "And then put James down for a nap? I'm just popping into work for a few hours."

The house-elf agreed, unsurprisingly, and Grace left hurriedly.

She wasn't gone long: back easily in time to wake James and play more games with him.

But when a new owl came, just a week later, she left again, leaving the boy in the care of the elves, who were more than capable.

It took a month for her to go in without an owl (just to check up, briefly).

And then she stopped staying. It wasn't like she didn't _enjoy_ being around James. She did. She really, really did love her son – he was adorable and funny and surely normal babies weren't that clever. She liked walking down to the village with him and noticing that he was better than everyone else's children, and she liked watching him play with the cat, and reading him stories, and listening to him laugh. He made her smile and he made her _ache_ with love.

She didn't even think about it like that.

She just went in for an hour or so, when James was asleep. And then, a little later, when James was eating. And, gradually, she would leave the house with her husband when James was asleep and return to put him to bed, and then wait for Harold to return to have dinner with him.

She still loved James; she took every moment that she was with him wholeheartedly.

But, by the time James was five, he saw his mother only for a few hours a day, and Harold... he saw Harold on the weekends.

And James thrived in the circumstances. He had always been an unruly child, but without parental supervision and – having quickly learnt that the House Elves had to do what he said – ran recklessly tame; soft enough not to arouse suspicion, but wild enough to never have to think. He learnt Greek, and French; he could tap dance (barely) and waltz (actually quite well); his artistic skills were frankly appalling; he never stopped playing Quidditch, teaching himself the game and going to watch the occasional match with Harold, who would swathe him in sweets and the best seats and who, when James pretended to be asleep and was carried gently inside late at night after such excursions, James loved more than anyone in the world, including Lemons.

* * *

**1977**

"Oi!" The voice called through the library: technically a whisper, but loud enough to attract attention from nearly everyone.

The table of Gryffindor seventh years looked over, and were for the most part irritated.

"Potter, some of us are trying to study," Lily said frankly, pretending that she could concentrate on her Charms when he was in the room.

"What is it?" Sirius ignored her words, beginning to pack his things.

James met Sirius' eyes, obscenely grateful for the way Sirius just _understood_ him, because it made it easier to say, somehow, "There's an attack in Diagon Alley," he muttered, lowering his voice and glaring at some second year Ravenclaws until they went away quietly.

"An attack?" Mary repeated dubiously.

"What kind of attack?" Remus asked, setting his own quill down now.

"Voldemort?" Sirius asked, summing it up for all of them. Again, James looked directly at Sirius; he nodded.

A ripple of unease ran around the teenagers, a muddle of exchanged glances and nervous fidgeting. The windows outside were dreary, and James waited impatiently for them to bloody _do_ something already, glaring through the stained glass onto the plain of green outdoors.

"What do you want us to do?" Lily asked him, nearly rising to her feet.

"Are you going?" Sirius wanted to know, next. Lily shot him a look of irritation: he wasn't the only one in conversation with James, as it so happened, but, hey, continue butting in like that. Berk.

James hesitated.

He didn't nod, but Sirius had known him long enough to know that the lack of response was an answer, and did so for him.

"Are you _crazy_?" Remus barked, forgetting to lower his voice and earning him his first deserved warning from the librarian, reading in her corner.

"_Are_ you crazy?" Peter asked, far quieter; glancing nervously around at people pretending not to be listening in.

James noticed at the same time that they were not entirely in private, and jerked his head in the direction of the exit, leading them out into the badly lit corridor and into a disused classroom.

Marlene, Will and Hayley hovered nervously inside, stumbling from one side to the other in nervous pacing.

"Well?" Hayley demanded, prancing forwards in stiff movements the second they began to file in.

"_What's_ going on?" Lily demanded.

"What do you mean an attack?" Mary questioned.

"Are you crazy?" Remus near shouted.

"Shut up!" Sirius bellowed quickly, effectively silencing the room and drawing attention from James, who had sunk to the floor, back to the wall, linking his fingers morosely behind his neck and staring at his knees. Everyone's eyes snapped to him, and he drew himself up tall.

"This is the situation: Voldemort has attacked Diagon Alley. As in, Mary, there is a battle going on there, such as there was in Cardiff a few weeks ago and in Rochester in July, remember?" Dully, each thought of the headlines, the death tolls, the silence and horror surrounding each event. "Some of us are going to help. You are in no way obligated to come, but you won't stop us." Sirius finished, quieter.

"You _are_ crazy," Remus surmised finally, "There's no way I'm letting _anyone _go."

"Kingsley's there!" Hayley exploded.

"Kingsley's _trained_ to fight!" Peter pointed out, and everyone looked to him in surprise at the validity of his point.

"We're too young," Marlene said quietly, clinging to Will's arm. Unbidden, the words from his speech came to her mind; he pulled her closer, to reassure her that if she wasn't going, he wasn't going.

"We're not in Hogwarts next year," James' voice came from his place on the floor. He allowed his hands to fall forwards, tapping his fingers on his knees. His eyes are closed, and Lily ached to run her fingers beneath his glasses, over the lids, to soothe him, how sad he sounds. "We're not in Hogwarts: we'll be out there, and we won't be able to hide anymore." His eyes flicked open, and he got to his feet.

"Like it or not," James continued softly, "this war is happening. There are people out there dying _right now_. There are people who, as of this very moment, will never see a loved one – a father, a mother, a daughter, a son, a _friend_ – ever again. And-" here he lifted his shoulders, dropping them in a lonely shrug – "I can't sit here, knowing that and doing nothing. I _can't_. Not when my parents are out there, and Hayley's Kingsley. Not when other people will never see their parents again. Not when I could be helping." He swallowed roughly. "I'm not asking you to come with me, I'm not even asking you to help. I'm just..." His voice trailed off quietly, into the yawning of silence in the room, holding them all together, in his awe.

"I'm just telling you all: I wouldn't change a moment." Now he looked at them, smiling his special crooked smile, eyes crinkled in the corners. "Not one fucking second, okay?"

There were nods, smiles, a titter from Mary.

Sirius alone did not react.

Not one fucking second, he breathed.

Not one.

* * *

**1970**

James, at ten, was a wily bastard. He had a grin to light up someone's day, and he knew how to use it so that they wouldn't realise he'd "borrowed" their wand until he'd gone. He never did anything truly awful: it wasn't his fault that the goat he bought (he "borrowed" money from his father's spare cloak) ate Francesca Downing's dress, or that he accidentally dyed poor Mr Brown's very brown hair blue (underage magic was not to be controlled, everyone knew, and anyway, it suited him) and that time that he'd jumped from his broom and broken both his legs no one had been hurt, had they? Well, apart from him, and he knew it was worth it.

That rush.

Neither parent was in when he clattered down the stairs, letter clutched in one hand and triumphant calls echoing around the empty house. He didn't even think about it, just hurtled down the kitchen to where Lemon was preparing his lunch, Tulip was teaching Twitchet how to write and Haserly (or Merlin, as James liked to call him, due to his ridiculous age and flowing beard) stared resolutely out of the large clear windows.

"Master James!" Lemon squealed, as James pulled the little creature into his arms and danced around the kitchen with her, eliciting a series of laughter and an explosion of activity from Twitchet – who was still young and liked to dance, anyway.

"My Hogwarts letter arrived!" James sung.

Lemon smiled, pecked James on his forehead, "Why don't you write to your Dad? He saved two more people," the elf gestured to the newspaper open on the side.

James' Dad's name, and hero, melded together in one headline, and James beamed with pride. His Dad was a hero.

* * *

**1977**

In the end, only Marlene and Will stayed behind. The others all followed on, determinedly gripping their wands and stony faced, letting James lead them through a few short corridors until he opened a hole in the wall – one that Lily and Mary had never seen before, and were rather surprised about.

"How did you find this?" Mary asked, clambering through into the mahogany panelled chamber beyond. She stopped to stare around at the tall walls and domed ceiling – the windows pouring light into the room and four mismatched chairs grouped around the fireplace.

"I found this one," Remus mumbled, "accidentally."

When he failed to continue, Peter took up the story, "He was coming back from the library late, and he heard Filch coming the other way, so he ducked behind the tapestry. But he dropped one of his books onto the floor, and when he picked it up he thumped the skirting board quite ferociously."

"Hadn't had much sleep, bless," Sirius jumped in.

"And the door opened up," James finished the tale, smiling affectionately at Remus, who grimaced in return.

"And, behold, the Evening Room," Sirius intoned gravely, sweeping his arm over the space dramatically.

Lily laughed, as did James.

After a hum of awkwardness, James opened the next door – set into the wall of stone on one side, and activated by tapping a particular rhythm (it was the chorus of the Hogwarts anthem, Lily noticed with a small smile). He held it open, and waited, and they all recognised that this was their chance to go if they needed it.

Sirius stepped through first, taken into the much darker space beyond, clattering noisily down the stairs.

Hayley followed next, and then Remus.

Lily looked at James, and he looked back.

"Coming Evans?" He asked quietly. His eyes were big, pupils dilated through adrenaline and poor lighting, and he wasn't dressed properly for where they were going. But what was the dress code for battle, anyway?

Chainmail was the only answer she could think of.

"With my whole heart," she promised him, and she wasn't sure what she was trying to say.

* * *

**1971**

James was excited. The kind of excited that had him up at five, haphazardly throwing things into his case – he hadn't packed any of his Quidditch magazines, for instance, because he had been reading them the night before – and drinking too much orange juice for the early hours.

He was ready by eight, and by eight fifteen he had decided that he should do something for his parents to commemorate his leaving.

With upmost carefulness, he piled some pancakes onto two plates and, because he didn't know what his parents would like to eat on pancakes, he put a dish of syrup (maple and golden), lemon juice, sugar, glitterelf residue, chocolate, jam (raspberry, strawberry, apricot and dragonfruit) and something that Lemons always pretended was unicorn blood, but James knew that it wasn't because unicorn blood was silver and anyway his parents would never let Lemons feed him unicorn blood, around them on the board.

He walked slowly up the stairs – a rarity for him – with the magically lightened board held carefully and the coffee pot precariously balanced near the edge. Carefully carefully, he cracked open the door to his parents room – the one he wasn't allowed to play in – and stepped inside.

"Hello, James, dear," his mother greeted distractedly, slipping earrings into one lobe and sliding small heels onto her feet at the same time. He grinned at her, and looked around for his dad.

"I made breakfast!" He showed her, and she ducked to his height – there wasn't a huge difference – to peck him on the head.

"Thank you, darling! But your father's been called into work: he has to go and save people, same as always," Grace gave a dainty little laugh, and James' smile wavered – only for a second, though; his father was out saving people, he was a hero, and that was cool!

Grace dropped off James herself. She flung her arms around his neck, and she whispered that she loved him, and she slipped five galleons into his pocket on top of what they'd already given him – for sweets on the train.

He hugged her back, kissed her cheek and then hugged her again.

"Are you okay?" She whispered into his ear – the only place within reach, due to the angle he had his head in the crook of her neck (it was the right place to whisper, of course, so she didn't think of it like that. But it was true).

He nodded, and turned his head to reply, "What do you smell like?"

Grace, startled, pulled back. "What?" She asked, laughing and cupping the adorable boy's face.

"What do you smell like?" James repeated innocently. "I don't recognise it."

Grace smiled, "Coconut, dear. Have you never had coconut?" He used to love coconut, she remembered: she would make jelly of it for him on special occasions. But that had been a long time ago, and he probably couldn't remember.

James shook his head definitively in reply.

The train horn tooted, and James jumped a little, staring at the scarlet engine with fascination.

"What house were you in?" He asked his mother abruptly, tilting his head up to look into her eyes, his face a beacon of light to her. She beamed at him, automatically.

"Ravenclaw," she informed him, and looked around at all the other parents saying goodbye. It must be strange, to be them; to have a child that wasn't brilliant like James.

"What house was Dad in?" James followed up.

"Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart," Grace quoted in a sing-song voice. James looked surprised, but laughed with her.

The train tooted again, and this time James barely reacted: he was not scared of it, after all. That was for little kids, not the son of Harold Potter. Where dwell the brave at heart, eh?

"I have to go," he told his mother calmly.

She soothed his messy hair down, kissing his cheek again and handing him his case, "You'll be fine. Write to your father and me when you get the chance, and have fun, okay? We love you."

James bounced onto the train, pulling the heavy case behind him and waving enthusiastically. The sheer number of people surrounding him, milling here and there, a thousand voices in a medley, overwhelmed him a little, and he quickly stepped into an empty-ish compartment. The two people within – a surly looking boy who, despite his outward mulish manner, was reading a Chudley Cannon's magazine (which he approved of) and a ginger girl nearly pressed against the window.

"Hello!" James greeted cheerfully, and he sat down.

The boy looked up, "Hullo." And then he looked down again. The girl said nothing.

James rolled his eyes.

"My name's James Potter," he introduced himself. "Who are you?"

This time, the boy reacted a little differently: he closed the magazine and, with eye brows pushed down over quite extraordinary eyes, he looked James up and down like he knew him.

"Sirius Black," he offered, cautiously, and took James' hand when it was offered.

"Chudley's are going to lose to the Wasps," James told him.

Sirius laughed, "No, Chudley's are going to thrash the Wasps!"

"No! The new Chudley's keeper is better than all three Wasps chasers put together!"

"In your _dreams_!"

James laughed, and pumped the hand he was still holding enthusiastically. Sirius, for the first time, smiled back, and James thought to himself that he rather liked it.

* * *

**1977**

As was only right, the fighting was clearing up by the time that they apparated from Hogsmeade to Diagon Alley.

It was raining, in London, and it took the teenagers a moment to adjust to the onslaught: eventually, a cursing Sirius cast an impervious charm, and James and Will cleaned their spectacles and peered around with everyone else.

The windows to the Leaky Cauldron had been blown in, and shattered glass littered the ground they stood on, and Tom was faithfully sweeping at the porch, out of the bad weather. Quality Quidditch supplies, across the road, was unscathed, but it sported the body of an old woman, clasping her chest and breathing roughly.

Lily ran over to help, crouching beside her. Water began to soak up from the hem of her robes, but she didn't notice as wrinkled, feeble hands gripped hers and a toothless mouth opened in a frail grin.

"Elsabeth?" The woman breathed. "I knew you'd come."

Tears pooled in Lily's eyes, and she turned them skywards as she desperately tried to remember all those Healing books she'd read, all those things that she could fix.

"What happened?" She gasped out, because she knew from extensive research that this was always the best course.

The moment was – and Lily felt bad for thinking it, but it was true – thankfully interrupted by two simultaneous things that had equal and opposite effects on the scene.

The first, the more immediate, was fingers on the back of Lily's neck, and a body crouching beside hers, and a warm, gentle voice calling her name. James. Lily looked to him, and she knew that he knew she was crying, although he couldn't possibly know because it was raining goddamit, and maybe she did know what she had been trying to tell him earlier, but she didn't want to anymore.

He pulled her close, "There's nothing you can do," and when Lily looked to the third person, she saw that the woman had died, the same beatific smile on her face and her fingers still on Lily's wrist. James lifted them off for her, and then collected the red-head into his arms again.

"There's nothing any of us can do," he whispered, both to himself and to comfort her.

The second, far more dramatic, thing:

"Kingsley!" Hayley shouted, and she took off running.

The wizard, who had only been properly studied by Hayley herself, though several others could picture him if they tried, turned to his name automatically, but his face registered Hayley's voice as he did so, and the alert suspicion gave way to outright panic.

"Hayley!" He called back, and then she was in his arms like a whirlwind, physically and emotionally knocking him backwards and he cradled her close briefly before pushing her away. "What are you doing here?" He demanded.

Hayley hiccupped, pressed her lips to his (despite his evident answer, the man's eyes closed and he kissed her back, passionately), "We heard there was fighting going on. We're all overage." She explained, and defended.

Kingsley paid attention to the others for the first time, taking a quick inventory of the motley group and growing ever more concerned.

"Go back to Hogwarts," he ordered immediately. "There's nothing you can do here, now. Okay? The fighting's over. And while your...bravery...is commendable, I have to ask you all never to attempt anything like this again."

"It's our world, too." Mary muttered, looking at her best friend's boyfriend critically for the first time (she was growing up, Mary MacDonald, as were they all; but old habits were slow to leave and she made a note of his lovely build and beautiful eyes to compliment Hayley on bagging later).

Kingsley looked at her with disdain, "And it will still be everyone else's world when you die in it." He reminded.

"We can help, if you'll let us," Sirius said confidently.

Kingsley warred with himself, it was plain to see. He took a look at Sirius' face, looked away. He thought of the prejudice they were fighting against, and how Sirius was here with Hayley, and was therefore evidently on their side, and how the young man was clearly eager to fight the Dark forces. But, damn it, he had just fought for his life and, despite retaining it, he had lost.

He had lost, when his colleagues dropped next to him. He had lost as curses grazed his skin with their force, and his own returned spells ripped his soul apart. He had lost, because everything was not perfect, and he had killed, and people he _cared_ for had been killed and he himself should have bloody well done more; he had lost, and he had looked at people with that face as he did so.

"Oh?" He sneered, anger getting the better of him. "_You're_ going to help? You, you fucking Black?"

"Kingsley!" Hayley gasped, jerking away from him. He didn't notice, he was watching the pain spike through his oppositions eyes and he was enjoying it.

"People have _died_ today because of you!" He hissed. "You and your kind, you're filthy killers and you deserve more than hell can give you! I wish you'd die! I wish you'd die _painfully_ and-"

"Shut the fuck up!" A new voice, a voice Kingsley hadn't realised was there, interrupted, and then James Potter was between Sirius and this bastard, blazing and strong and furious.

"How _dare_ you!" He exploded. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"I...I..." Kingsley stuttered, but the hot air had gone from his sails and Sirius had morphed from a Death Eater back into an innocent young boy, and he was instantly sorry. "I'm sorry! I don't know what came over me! I've just...some of your family...it's no excuse of course...I'm sorry," he finished lamely, and he looked to Hayley, too (because he didn't actually give a damn what Sirius thought, but he...he really, really liked Hayley). She smiled at him, but her eyes were narrowed too.

Kingsley would have laughed if he hadn't wanted to cry.

* * *

**1973**

The first time James really appreciated how little his parents were around was the Christmas of his third year.

He was in the blue room, all fires lit and ridiculous amounts of food spilt around himself and Sirius, who was lolled on his back playing with some tinsel (he would never admit it, but James knew that he liked it because it was sparkly). They had spent the morning playing Quidditch, and then they had cooked themselves (actually, Lemons and Tulip had cooked, and James and Sirius had made a mess), and then they had written a letter, the two of them together, to Remus, to try to convince him to come and join them, and then one to Peter. They spent a few hours – until it was dark – in the village, messing in the snow with whoever came their way and stealing sweets that they could pay for from the shop on the corner, tipping generously when they finally bought a newspaper at the end of their trip (they gave it to the homeless man on the corner – who else was there to care about Muggle news?). The trip back up passed quickly, rolling a snowman the whole way, and then they fixed it up in some old robes. And then they had a look at some animagi books, and then they read a girlie magazine together, laughing at the stupid letters about nails and when to put out ("First date," James nodded lewdly. Sirius snorted, "Please, bitch. Before! Or else how would we know to date them?").

They had dinner, decorated the Christmas tree in the blue room, and were in the process of lying around saying whatever popped into their minds when James spoke, "Dad's going to be here tomorrow, for a few hours. There's some sort of training exercise in the Ministry that he doesn't have to supervise, so he decided he would come and set things in order on this side of the world."

Sirius rolled over to stare at him, "Your dad?"

James nodded, glancing over when he heard the surprise in his best friend's voice.

Sirius pulled a face.

"What?" James asked, sitting up.

Sirius moved opposite, and they sat facing each other with their legs crossed. Their knees touched, and the space between them was a diamond that Sirius dropped the tinsel into dramatically, "Nothing. It's just...I've never met your dad."

James laughed at the absurdity, "Yes you have!"

Sirius looked at him seriously, "When?"

James thought back, "Last summer! You were here virtually the whole two months!"

Sirius raised an eyebrow, "Yeah, but _he _wasn't."

James' smile wavered, "You must have met him _once_."

But Sirius was shaking his head morosely, "Not even the once. You've met _my_ dad more than I've met _yours_." His eyes, the clear, familiar, perfect grey that James knew so well by now, were even and forgiving. They might even have been – and James was sure that this wasn't right, because it didn't make sense – a little victorious.

James laughed, pulling it off without a glitch, "How _wierd_."

Sirius laughed, too, and James put the incident from his memory – he had just remembered something about Clara Jeysendew that he had to say – until that night, when he was wrapped in his bed, and Sirius's snoring was not distracting enough to keep him from wondering.

Why hadn't Sirius ever met his dad?

Why hadn't James ever realised?

The next morning – and it was one of those glorious, crisp white winter mornings (the snow man was completely swamped with new layers, and had as a result lost all shape; something they quickly fixed) – James sat them down with hot chocolate to write their Christmas lists.

Oh, there was the usual banter, and balling up of parchment and rugby tackling to the ground and cleaning up of spilt hot chocolate, but somehow they got everything done, and sent them off to James' Dad. And, just as a little test to sooth his mind, James put a little charm on the last note – a little something he'd learnt in History of Magic a few weeks ago (the time, not the lesson) – to stop anyone who wasn't a family member reading it.

If Mr Potter read the letters, and did the shopping himself, James would get the new 'The Who' vinyl. If Shiela, Harold's secretary (who Sirius _had _actually met), did it, he wouldn't.

He didn't get it.

And Mr Potter didn't turn up that day: there was an emergency at work, and he had to go and save someone.

* * *

**1977**

They went back to school in silence. Lily was tucked under James' arm, and she couldn't stop crying. Remus was relieved, despite himself, and Mary was talking passionately to Hayley about Kingsley. Sirius walked a little apart.

Marlene and Will were waiting for them in the common room, all nervous twitching and quick questions and "didn't any of you realise you're all soaked through?".

They dried off. They sat near the fire.

Mary, the only one really talking, filled them in.

"And then, when Kingsley had to go, we all came back," she sighed, shrugging at the lack of interest in her tale.

Marlene and Will exchanged relieved looks, and then Marlene fluttered over to comfort Lily (who had stopped crying but was now sitting stiffly) and Will faced Sirius.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly, thinking back to Kingsley's harsh words.

Sirius smiled, actually quite brilliantly, "Just perfect, thank you!" He managed to pop the 'u' sound at the end, and James smiled as he listened. It was so bloody Sirius to be happy in times like these (and he was genuinely ecstatic, James could tell); it lifted James' own mood.

Will laughed, "Good to-"

"Excuse me," a very familiar, very curt voice broke into the gentle conversation. As a pack, they looked around to Professor McGonagall's imposing figure, her pursed lips, her sad, sad eyes.

There was a shiver of intimidation, and then pure worry at her expression.

"Could you come with me, please, Mr Potter. The Headmaster wants to see you." She directed James sternly, who disentangled himself from Lily, punched Peter reassuringly on the shoulder and left without saying anything else, McGonagall close behind and silent as well. The swathes of Gryffindors filling the room parted for them automatically, and none of the seventh years spoke until the portrait hole door swung shut behind them.

"What do you think _that_ was?" Mary asked.

At the same time Peter piped up, "Do you think he knows?"

Remus, ever the practical one, took it upon himself to answer, "If they knew, we'd all be down there. No, this is just James."

Sirius didn't understand the meaning of 'just James'. There _was_ no just James. Everything that was James' was theirs, and everything from before the Marauders...Sirius had, too. It wasn't like James could have kept a secret.

Sirius' perfect mood had dissipated, the moment James Potter had left the room.

* * *

**1977 – July**

"James?" The unusual, nevertheless familiar, voice permeated the air, rolling through the house with ease aided by the anger within. James didn't hear: he was in the garden, shirt off, warming himself in the sun and reading some trash about some war and some chick and some bloke and he didn't understand why they didn't just elope but he read on anyway.

"James?" This time he heard, though he thought he didn't. Reaching one hand, he shut off the magical record player beside his head, and listened harder. Footsteps were making their way through the house, and James thought he must be hallucinating because he was completely alone and it had been that way since he sent the elves away four weeks previously.

A man appeared in the empty doorway.

James recognised him, mostly from the newspapers.

"Dad?" He laughed, inexplicably grateful to see the figure. Suddenly, the loss of Sirius hit him hard; he nearly doubled over (he would have, if hadn't been used to the sudden attacks by now, and if his father – his _father_ – wasn't keeping him up with his presence) and he found himself just wanting to embrace the man. He couldn't remember ever hugging his father.

The closest they came was a brief greeting about once a year, before his father had to dash out. And letters read by Shiela.

James thought that they had shook hands once, but it may well have been a dream.

"What is _this_?" Harold said, keeping his temper in check barely, brandishing a letter violently.

James frowned: what was that?

He shrugged.

"I'll tell you what it is!" Harold near shouted. "It's a letter, written to _you_, thanking you for signing werewolf rights petitions!"

James blinked. Honestly, he hadn't thought of it once since he had sent the letter in, as bidden by Evans.

He didn't want to think of Evans.

Thinking of Evans lead to thinking of Sirius.

Oh, Merlin, he couldn't think of Sirius.

"So?" James choked out.

If Harold had been a more committed parent he might have stopped there. If he devoted as much time to helping his family as to helping the world he might have heard in James' tone that this conversation must stop. If he knew his son _at_ all he would have dropped the matter.

He didn't know his son, though.

"What do you think you're doing?" Harold growled, taking an imposing step into the bright sunshine of James' haven and glaring at the teenager. James bit back a retort ("I'm listening to you get angry, actually.")

"What do you mean, sir?"

The sir may have been insolent rather than respectful, but Harold shouldn't assume that he could get it all. And, anyway, James was in a bad mood.

"Why are you signing trash like this?" Harold questioned, and then checked his watch.

Later, James would think that it was the watch-checking that did it. That snide little glance, that how-much-longer-can-I-really-spend-here. With his only son. It was rude, and it was insensitive, and this was the first James had seen of Harold since the Christmas before last, and the man was damn well eager to get off.

His own father.

It was definitely the watch-checking. Possibly teamed with James' bad mood and the invasion of his sanctuary.

It might have had something to do with having only a tiny number of friends left, and the refusal to lose another.

"I don't believe it's trash, actually!" James barked, surprising them both at his vehemence.

Harold gaped for a second before regaining his composure, "They're _werewolves_, James, son. They're _monsters_." He laughed, as though doubting James' sanity.

"They didn't ask to be bloody bitten!" James shouted, raising his voice far above the realms of the previous sentences. "It got fucking landed on them and they have to deal with it and it's _horrible_, that, okay? It's sick that, because of someone else, they should be landed with grief like that! It's not _right_!"

"Werewolves _kill_ people!" Harold yelled back. "They murder children, innocents; they ruin lives!"

"_ONLY SOME OF THEM_!"

"All of them! The people inside die, and they all become monsters!"

James very nearly punched Harold. He very nearly cocked his fist, and hit his very old but still formidably sized (James had inherited his mother's more lithe figure) father. Somehow, instead, he managed to drive his fist into the stone wall of the cottage, shouting out in pain and rage.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He growled at the man, who looked about in bewilderment.

"Look, boy, I'll not have you speak to me like that! I'm your father, and you'll treat me wi-"

James scoffed, harshly, "You're my father? _You _think you have rights to say that?"

An unbidden image of Orion Black came to his mind, and how he-who-shall-not-be-thought-of had come to James for help when he left. Where would James go?

Where was Sirius now?

Harold looked perplexed.

"You aren't my dad," James explained. "Mum isn't my mum. You _aren't my parents_. You haven't been for years, because we're no family. You can swan around in your office, and she can swan around after you, and I can be a million miles away and we'll never know, will we? Because I don't know you, apart from the man I read about in the papers, and you don't know me _at_ all_. _We aren't friends, we certainly aren't family; don't go around telling me what the hell to believe because guess what – you have no influence over me. You never made the effort, and now you don't get to reap the rewards. You're nothing to me."

He wasn't being mean, he was being honest; it was something the family had needed for sometime.

But he couldn't face Harold's back leaving, so he apparated away before he would have to.

* * *

**1977 – November**

James followed Minerva McGonagall down the corridor with his heart in his mouth. It was hardly the first such trip he'd made, but usually he knew what he'd done, to what he could merit the occasion, and he was coming up with blanks (she would have brought everyone if they'd figured out _that_, surely?).

Usually, he would be giddy with residue recklessness, and bound alongside her, alternately trying to woo the older woman and make her laugh; his mouth would move a mile a minute, and he always succeeded with the laughing goal.

So far, he had said not one word. His heart was in his mouth, and if he opened it he was afraid he would spurt some nonsense that would be either condemning or humiliating.

The door to Dumbledore's office had not seemed so terrifying, even on his first visit. Even after the incident with Snape and Remus, where he had feared Sirius' expulsion.

McGonagall's face said it all: she was sorry, and that was bad.

That was bad because it meant he wasn't in trouble.

He wasn't in the wrong.

He wasn't in the wrong, but he was still here.

Oh, Merlin, what had happened?

James pushed open the door, and was greeted by the sight of his mother, in her work clothes, make-up immaculate, perfect tiny smile on her face and no emotion in her eyes.

"Mum?" He begged quietly, because the pieces of the puzzle were fitting together and this could not possibly be happening.

She nodded, "You need to come to 's, James." He swallowed, and he prayed – he wasn't a believer, but he did so anyway. "Your father's hurt," she said, anyway.

* * *

The hospital sheets had been pressed very well, James noted with satisfaction. Very white. Very pressed. Lovely. Excellent.

Good place to die, he thought.

Merlin, he reprimanded his subconscious, consciously.

It was a nice ward, too. Excellent curtains. The Healer was a good chap. Oh, look, all those potions on that shelf were arranged in the colours of the rainbow.

Fuck it, where was the right potion to _fix this_?

At last, he turned his eyes to his father.

Harold was many things: he was strong, and brave, and clever and wise. He interviewed well because everyone loved him, and he loved his country and he was passionate about his cause. He took orders well, and gave them far better. He was a terrible father, but a great leader; a bad husband and a worse friend but the kind of boss everyone wanted. Harold was many things to do with work, and as such he was many things _not_ to do with work, though they were generally more negative in nature.

Harold wasn't this man, he was sure.

Harold wasn't shrunken and frail, between very white, very pressed linen sheets, on a ward with good curtains and colour co-ordinated vials. Harold didn't have twitching fingers, and Harold didn't struggle to breath, and someone had not set Harold's glasses to the side out of carelessness.

That kind of thing didn't happen to Harold Potter – he was invincible, inevitable, interminable.

James gazed down at his father, and realised only one thing: Harold was dying.

"James," the old man breathed, and James realised with a start that he had woken and James had not noticed, so slight was the change. Now, he could just glimpse the hazel of Harold's eyes behind weakly fluttering eyelashes, and felt the brief press of soft fingers on his hand.

He looked down at the white skin enveloping his own, and returned the feeble smile.

"Let me see you," Harold asked, with a decent amount of depth to his minute-counting voice.

It took James a moment to understand, but soon he was placing the spectacles onto Harold's face delicately, careful to avoid touching the pallor of his skin.

"What happened?" He asked quietly.

Harold twitched (James assumed it was an attempt on a shrug), "There was an attack on Diagon Alley, and I got caught in the cross-fire."

James breathed a long suffering breath, "Your too old for this," he said quietly. Harold, while interminable, was not ageless, and it was a young man's game to save the world. There were no old superhero's.

He should have gone into politics long ago, but Harold was proud; and besides, he honestly believed no one could do the job better.

It was likely that no one could, really.

"Yes," Harold agreed surprisingly. "And you were too young." Somehow, he managed to look at James severely.

James held his gaze, unashamed, "Like father, like son, I guess."

Harold laughed a shaking, wheezing laugh, white teeth flashing momentarily before he dissolved into an agony of coughing and the Healer came running with the indigo concoction.

James waited patiently while they administered the potion, eyes fixed on the window above Harold's head. The intruder left, and father and son were left alone again.

"Where's Gracie?" Harold asked, and for the first time in his life – though, admittedly, there weren't a great number of times to choose from – James heard the strain of the pathetic in his dad's voice. Harold was scared, and he wasn't trying to hide it anymore.

"Fixing things with the Healers. Trying to get more in. Floo in the experts." James explained his mother's absence, and watched Harold Potter's slackening mouth curve with affection at the thought.

They really, James thought, _really_ loved each other.

"James," Harold was starting again, firmly, "I have to talk to you."

James looked at him blankly.

"More than we are, now," Harold swallowed. "I have to apologise."

James' eyes dropped to his feet – he hadn't taken a seat – and he fidgeted nervously. He didn't like this talk. He didn't like it for the same reason anyone wouldn't: it was what people did before they died, right their wrongs, and James did _not_ like the thought of Harold dying.

What would the Wizarding world do, for one?

"I don't make apology for my beliefs," Harold said, tersely. James looked up again, startled. "No one should. But, for forcing my own imaginings onto you, I am sorry. You obviously had...strong views on the subject, and I couldn't respect that, and I'm sorry for it."

James stared at his father.

Harold stared at his son.

"And I'm sorry for not being around through your life."

"You were saving the world," James excused, like he had heard a million times.

Harold frowned, "Who told you that?"

"Mum, Lemons, Sheila, the newspapers," James tried to put a joking tone on, but to his horror heard his voice catch with emotion.

Harold pulled a face, "I had an excellent team."

The self-deprecation made James smile, and the two sat easily together for a moment, until they were disrupted by the sudden and abrupt arrival of Grace, clattering more noisily into the silent ward than James had ever heard her move and darting straight past her son to fuss over her husband.

"Grace, Gracie!" Harold complained affectionately, and James stepped out of the way to observe the poor, unfortunate couple. His mother's hair had escaped its confines – much the same way James' always did – and it cascaded over the duo; Harold's weak arms found the strength to brush tears from her cheek; their old lips met in one still, furious kiss.

James backed away: to give them privacy, and because he knew he did not belong there. Not really.

"James?" Harold called, just as James neared the door, and the boy with the messy hair turned back briefly.

"I love you," the father promised, for the first time that James could remember.

"I love you, too," James said in return, because – although no fireworks lit up inside of him at the words – it was too awful to leave without.

In the corridor, alone thankfully, he slumped against the wall, sliding to the bottom and surveying his foot with unusual intensity.

It was a decent foot. Possibly a rather nice –

His father was dying.

His father was dying.

His father was dying.

His father was –

"Mate?" A voice interrupted quietly, and James looked up blearily (his father was dying) into an impossible face. "You ok?"

James held up a hand, assertively, and was pulled to his feet. He looked at the boy, and the boy gazed back and James didn't know how, or why, or when he was there; he knew he was meant to be upset with him. Hell, James knew that Sirius Black had kissed Lily Evans, and broken his heart. He could feel Sirius' fist breaking his nose, if he tried hard enough; he knew the months of loneliness that followed.

And there was Sirius, in hospital with him, looking slightly up at him because James was a little taller, and James knew him so well, and missed him so much that it hurt and _his dad was dying_.

James flung his arms around Sirius' neck, burying his head there. His breaths came in strangled sobs, his entire being shaking, and Sirius absorbed him with ease, petting his hair and whispering the right words to break the screaming silence inside of him.

With gentle fingers, Sirius rubbed James' scalp the way that calmed him until he stopped crying and sank instead, in Sirius' arms, to the centre of the corridor floor.

And there, in his best friend's perfect arms, James Potter waited for his father to die.

His father, who, despite everything, James adored.

* * *

**Another emotional one. The James/Sirius reunion was initially meant to happen in the next chapter, but I got bored of waiting for it because theyre meant to be together, and with that in mind this chapter is dedicated to QueenElizabeth3andCourtJeste r. Hope everyone liked it - Review, please! ~Meli**


	15. Peculiar Friendships

**Another chapter I'm not very happy with - sorry about that (and how long it's been, I know, I know, I'm a bad person and all that). It's kindof a filler that took on it's own life. Also, I can't remember if I cut out the bit about Peter and Mary, or if I've described Reg Cattermole in a completely different way, so if you notice some error can you just tell me, thanks.**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

The headlines splashed across the front page of the newspaper the next day: Harold Potter, dead. His name headlined over all the others wounded, killed, in the battle of Diagon Alley, and his was the name that was whispered back and forth in surprised, shocked mutterings. No one dared say it, perhaps as a lingering respect for his work, but many thought that this was a sign of the progression of the Death Eaters.

Eyes were on Remus, on Peter, through the absence of James.

"Is he alright?" The braver ones asked sympathetically, often playing with their hair or asking just as they had to leave for the next lesson.

Invariably, Remus replied: "He'll be fine, thank you for asking." He would turn away, and he would look at Peter, hovering dutifully at his side, giving him the blank look of someone who really quite wanted to punch something. Peter would smile wearily, and nod, too.

Neither of them had met Harold Potter, but they felt like the rest of the world as if they had known him. He was something of a legend – the mystical being who could keep all from harm.

The castle and its inhabitants were sombre; the ghosts told stories about him, and the paintings were quiet for once.

At least, that was the way most things were.

"Severus!" Avery called over the lanky Slytherin as he entered the common room late that morning. The green glow lit his blonde head from the side, and for a second his teeth sparkled the same eerie light and Snape considered continuing on.

Instead, he made his way over slowly.

Mulciber gestured the last available armchair in the corner they sat in, and tossed the skull he was holding into his other palm.

"So sad about Potter's father, isn't it?" He sighed melodramatically, pale eyes narrowed against the world.

"My heart breaks for him." Snape bit out, and couldn't help thinking of Potter's absence that day and smiling. "Poor little lamb."

Avery choked a laugh, glancing at Snape in admiration for his honest hatred of the boy, "Yes, well, it makes _our_ job easier, doesn't it?" His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Any day now, be on alert."

Snape stood to leave, tilting his head in acknowledgement of the words. Any day now, his heart pounded, and all this pain would stop. Any day now, and people would know what he could do...

James, predictably if you knew him, woke early. He rolled onto his side in his King sized bed, in his familiar old room and stared at the wall. It was a typically large room; high ceilings and pale walls emphasising the point. The two large windows, with their cascading curtains – fortunate not to have been destroyed in one explosion or another – let in no light, due to the season and the time. It was this that he first thought, as he stared around.

It was dark outside. Dark, like the cave at the bottom of the garden that he had never dared venture into; dark, like the shadows of monsters on his wall when he was little; dark, like the cloaks of Death Eaters.

James rolled onto his back, bunching his pillow beneath his head and going completely still.

Perhaps he should be crying, he thought. Perhaps he should be angry, or motivated, or empty – weren't they what he should be feeling? Instead he was...

James couldn't have said, if there had been a wand pointed at his head.

James couldn't have said if there had been a wand pointed at Sirius' head.

The door to his room opened, and James immediately clocked where his wand was, where his glasses were, ran an inventory of exits and quick hexes. Should he put on his glasses, or fire a hex? Should he hex, or should he wait?

In the end, it didn't matter. It was Sirius at the door – it always would have been.

The boy's familiar thin figure leant in the doorframe for a minute, just studying James' pose – head and arms thrown back, duvet drawn up to his armpits, vacant eyes staring at the ceiling. Then James heard quiet footsteps, and felt the cold air rush in as the duvet was raised.

Sirius slipped into bed beside him, plenty of room between them – they were best friends, and they were more comfortable with each other's bodies and their own heterosexuality than most were at that age, but they were still teenage boys and this one social restriction allowed them both perspective.

"Morning," James muttered, without looking.

"Fuck off," Sirius replied calmly, and it surprised James so much that his head jerked round and his mouth fell open.

Sirius smiled a little, his face pressed into James' pillow, "Surprise."

It took James a moment – maybe that was his grief: less intelligence – but he understood, and soon he too laughed, harshly. Typical Sirius: being weird to distract James from thinking. It worked, because something else flowed into James now.

"I'm hungry," he told Sirius honestly, mimicking Sirius' pose on one side, now.

Sirius reached out one hand, and when he brought it back he was handing James his glasses, "Breakfast is on the table, sweetheart."

* * *

Mary was looking for Reginald.

It was the first thing she had thought of when she woke up: she had to go and find Reginald, and she had to go and find him now. The thought propelled her from the safe warmth of her covers, and she hurried into the cold bathroom. It whipped round her brain again and again, and as she hurriedly brushed her teeth she became more and more agitated, throwing on a pair of clean (she hoped) robes and not bothering with make-up. She wore flat shoes, although she knew her legs looked nicer in the heels. She squinted her eyes against the light as she searched, even though she knew it would give her lines when she was older.

She had to find Reginald.

"Have you seen Reginald?" Mary clattered over to Kyle on the Ravenclaw table, craning her neck for a better look at the Hufflepuff one and coming up short. Either the mousy haired and short boy was difficult to spot, or he was purposely avoiding her.

Kyle stared at her, "Who?"

Distracted from her quest momentarily, Mary looked back at her ex, "Reginald Cattermole? Hufflepuff, our year?"

Kyle shook his head, "Why do you want him?"

"It doesn't matter, really," Mary lied, jittering as she searched futiley for his familiar narrow face. Where could he be? The boy needed some meat on his slender bones: he couldn't afford to skip meals!

"Well, I'll keep an eye out for him," Kyle said, his voice laced with irritation and handsome face wearing a less than handsome expression.

Mary, understanding that she had loitered for far too long next to someone with whom she had mutual dislike, backed away, shooting the devoid Hufflepuff table an accusatory glance.

Back at the Gryffindor table, Marlene and Will were watching her with curiosity. Well, Will was: Marlene was heaping her plate with bacon.

"What was all that about?" Will asked the brunette, concern in his usually easy voice. He leant over and passed Marlene a second plate of the meat without looking to see if she'd finished the first; the fourth years previously having control of the distribution opened their mouths to argue, and Marlene glared at them over her boyfriend's arm until they backed down silently.

For a second – or two, or three – Mary was bitterly jealous of Marlene. Not for Will – he was lovely, and sweet, but a little weedy for her taste's and a little uptight and really...

Mary's thought's froze. Will was weedy, and uptight, and he didn't always understand social situations and he refused to bend to peer pressure. Reginald was much the same. Reginald had paler hair, and Will had darker eyes, and Reginald was taller, and Will was thinner, and Reginald was cleverer, but Will was more poetic. But, essentially, they shared a lot of characteristics.

And Mary was bitterly jealous of Marlene...because of Will.

Because of Will – and in no way did Mary have romantic feelings for the boy – but also because...well, again, because of Will. She suddenly and viscerally wanted the kind of relationship where you just _knew _what the other person needed; she wanted to be liked for her personality, not her legs; she needed to want to tell someone about her day, and to want to hear about his, and tell others about theirs.

"Mary?" Marlene was asking, having turned away from her plate – apparently she had tried to start a conversation several times while Mary's thoughts were elsewhere.

"I have to go," Mary leapt to her feet, having only just sat down. She was aware that lessons would begin in only twenty minutes, but if she ran, she could reach Reginald's Defence class in time to return for Divination.

"Where?" Marlene called after the girl, as she took off – running for the first time either other Gryffindor could remember – down the space between the tables and took a sharp left at the doors. She didn't reply.

* * *

Lily was with Remus. Kind of.

She wasn't really with Remus, Remus was on the far side of the room with Peter, angrily scrawling something on parchment and the subject of many side glances, Lily's being one of them.

She would give anything to be allowed to walk across, hug him and ask how James was. She just wanted to _know_ because losing a parent was one of her worst fears but... she knew that James and his dad had a very unusual relationship, though she did not know why.

And Sirius was there, and that must be a good thing, right? Because for God's sake, she wasn't important enough to have caused such a rift, and she would really like James' Quidditch team to stop glaring at her whenever they saw her.

She hoped he was okay.

Remus glanced up, and caught her inquiring gaze for a moment. His tawny eyes burnt angrily – directed at her as much as anyone else, she knew – and her own dropped instantly, embarrassed to be caught staring. Her cheeks flushed red, and she forced a casual edge into her movements as she pretended she had only been zoned out, and she wasn't just one of the throng watching them.

Remus was not so easily blindsided, "Something bothering you, Lily?" He called across the space, and, as she looked up, she felt the flicker of attention – so focused on the two boys – encompass her, too. There was no way of leaving quietly, and in the silence of mourning she could hardly pretend she hadn't heard.

"No, not at all," she said quietly, setting down her own quill and turning into the accusatory light of the eager crowd. "I was just wondering how you're doing?"

Remus was slightly stunned – Peter more so – and Lily selfishly felt a glimmer of satisfaction at winning a point. It's not James she's playing, and that feels strange, but it's a good reminder of the regular how things _used_ to be.

"Me?" Remus asked, scarred face screwed up in confusion. Lily nodded. "I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?"

Lily shrugged, "Well, James is your friend. Everyone mourns what their friends mourn, don't they?" It was a very Will-esque thing to say. The kind of statement that gets immortalised in literature, or plastered across posters, and she would be proud of it if she wasn't thinking about James, and feeling his pain.

Remus sat down, looking meaningfully about and scattering the eyes fixed loosely upon them.

* * *

James ate like he hadn't eaten in a week.

Sirius had seen it before: when the Wasps were dropped from the major leagues, when Remus stopped talking to them after the incident with Snape, every time that Evans rejected him, every time his dad missed Christmas.

But not like this. Not this heaping and reheaping, and snacking and obsessive working out (it was a two-birds-one-stone situation, because this way James got fitter for Quidditch and also worked off some frustration) and then having another meal.

Sirius couldn't pretend to understand, because James knew that he didn't. James had a bad relationship with his father – based on broken trust and admiration, with none of the foundations needed and no bonding required – but it was hardly the same as Sirius'. Sirius _longed_ for his father to be as James' had been.

He might never have been there, but neither had he ever broken his ribs.

Never had he punched James in the face.

Never had he slashed his chest wide with uncontrollable magic, causing a blind rush to Mungo's.

Never had he threatened James' life.

Sirius picked at his food as James shovelled more in, tipping his plate in his best friend's direction in the offer of more goodies. James took it eagerly, grunting a thanks without looking.

"When's the funeral?" Sirius asked.

There was a momentary pause before James replied, "Monday, they think. It'll be a big affair, so they want to make sure that all the right people can...you know...make it." He took another bite. A speck of whatever it was – they hadn't even asked when Lemons placed it in front of them – hit the corner of his glasses, but he either didn't notice or didn't care.

Sirius wanted to wipe it clean, but refrained.

Instead, he asked something new, "So, you and Evans, huh?"

This time James set his fork down – for the first time in the best part of an hour – "Is this going to be weird, us talking about...this...like this?" His eyes squinted at Sirius through the thick lenses, his chapped lips were chewed anxiously.

Sirius shook his head, reflexively, "Look, seriously – don't make a joke about my name – there was never anything between me and Evans except a mistake."

"Evans and me," James corrected automatically. "And, good."

Sirius quelled the urge to swat him, and stole a few roast potatoes.

"Us, neither," James muttered quietly, and it didn't take Sirius long to realise that he was replying to Sirius' own earlier question.

"But you nearly kissed her," he pressed resolutely, very aware that James hadn't taken a bite in a good few minutes.

James shrugged, "_Nearly_, mate. And, to be honest..." He trailed off, a hopeless expression gliding across his face.

Sirius watched his elegant fingers play with the handle of the knife, watched his eyes glaze over, "Hey, her loss, mate."

James smiled slightly.

The moment was interrupted – not entirely ungratefully – by the roar of the fire in the next room over, and both Gryffindor boys craned around to watch the door as their Head of House stepped through, brushing soot from her emerald clad shoulders and her usual stern expression fixed firmly on.

"Professor," James got to his feet in greeting, and Sirius followed suit.

She motioned them to take their seats once more, but neither did. Instead, they watched her with apprehensive eyes.

"Mr Potter," she addressed him directly, "may I say that I'm sorry for your loss."

James stared back passively, "You may." He bit out, only slightly sarcastically.

She let the rudeness drop, "Of course, all your teachers have been notified of your due leave of absence – so come back whenever you feel ready and not a moment sooner." The tough lines on her face softened slightly, showing genuine concern for a moment.

"How sweet of you," James baited her once more.

McGonagall turned to Sirius, "Mr Black, generally we would prefer it if you made your absence from school known, in the future. You, being no relation to the late Mr Potter" – James flinched – "have no rights to leave school grounds without school, or your parents', permission."

Sirius' jaw twitched, but he said nothing, just looked back at her and waited for his retribution.

McGonagall smiled, "Mr Black, school will allow you to leave the grounds for this matter. And may I just say – off the record – that it's about time you two were together again."

"You may," James repeated, but his tone was slightly less cold this time.

McGonagall sniffed, and turned to go, "No doubt I'll be regretting that statement soon enough. Do _try_ to stay out of trouble, won't you?" She left in a flurry of green, and the house was strangely empty with just the two boys.

Something occurred to James, and once he'd thought of it...

He turned to face Sirius, "I'm sorry for being such a prat."

If Sirius was surprised, he didn't look it. Instead, he flinched; he hung his head slightly, "You don't ever need to apologise to me, you know that."

James did know.

Or, at least, he knew that Sirius thought it was so. He disagreed, but he had never had cause to press the point before.

"You don't owe me anything," he said now, simply.

Sirius scoffed, "Oh yeah? What _don't_ I owe to you?"

His grey eyes met James' with a sort of stormy calm: angry but accepting; vulnerable but defiant.

James kept his cool, holding his gaze, "And what don't _I _owe you?"

Now Sirius was genuinely surprised. His handsome face screwed up in confusion, he blinked several times too rapidly to pass as aloof, "Are you _high_?"

James stood, sharply, "Look, it doesn't matter. I just meant that I'd always been there for you and you'd always been there for me and then I messed with that so I'm sorry, ok?"

Sirius glared, "You're a twat. Shut up."

James, perhaps wisely, dropped the matter.

* * *

Mary skulked into the Gryffindor common room late that night to find it near deserted.

The sombre mood of the day had continued throughout – lessons had been subdued, meals quiet – and now, in the sun long since set, the room was devoid of people apart from the Seventh Years.

"Hello, Mary," Hayley said, scribbling more work onto her page haphazardly. No one else really reacted. "Where have you been all day?"

Mary...had not had a successful day. Despite her avid attempts to locate her friend, Reginald Cattermole remained hidden, and she wasn't very sure what she could do about it, now. She had tried. She had tried to find him and tell him...

If she was honest, she didn't even know what she needed to say so badly.

Perhaps she just wanted to apologise for her behaviour the other day, maybe she wished they could still be friends. She didn't know. But she _missed him_.

He was...sweet. Reginald was gentle, and awkward, and geeky and fresh. He wasn't like anyone Mary had met before; he both took the pressure off her and made her want to do more; he made her a completely different person and she wasn't sure how she felt about that but didn't want it to stop.

She didn't react to him like other boys.

He didn't make her want to kiss him; he didn't make her want to shack up quickly in some classroom and forget about it later after the sweat and passion. She didn't fancy him, not like that.

But, God, she missed his company.

"Around," she replied forlornly to Hayley, sinking to sit beside her on the faded red sofa. Her thin legs pulled up to her chest, and she hugged them as she gazed into the fire.

No one responded after that. No one was in the mood to talk, to think.

Some time later Marlene and Will, wrapped gently together, head off to the boy's dormitory. Remus is quick to follow, his face drawn and haggard and unresponsive when Lily touched his arm comfortingly. And then Hayley headed off to post another letter – another apology that isn't really an apology – to Kingsley, and Lily bode them goodnight, and Mary didn't even realise that she was alone with Peter until he spoke.

"I never met Mr Potter, you know," he says quietly, and Mary was a little selfishly bitter because she was too fixated on the mystery of Reginald to think about the larger problems of their world. Of course, she knew she couldn't say that.

It was Peter's best friend's dad, after all.

"Him and James were always a little bit funny, you know?" The young man continued, resting his head on his arm as he turned to look at her dead on. Her eyes met his, and she was scared by the fear in them.

"James adored him, but didn't really care about him, if that makes sense?"

It didn't.

"I'm sorry," Mary said, because she couldn't think how else to reply.

Her apology fell flat in the face of the enormity of it all, and they both knew it. Perhaps wisely, Peter changed the subject.

"So, you and Cattermole, huh?" He began, his voice suddenly quite grating and intrusive, and Mary looked away sharply in case he saw the increase of her heart and the sweat on her palms.

"There is no me and Cattermole," she replied.

A cough sounded from the portrait hole, and both seventh years turned around to face the noise that interrupted them.

Mary's heart stilled.

"He was waiting outside," Hayley said quietly, like an introduction, and stepped to one side.

Reginald was behind her.

His eyes were nervous, one of his skinny little legs jittered awkwardly; in his clasped fingers he held daffodils.

They are Mary's favourite flowers.

Reginald looked at the floor rather than at Mary, his hair flopping onto his forehead and his thin lips chewed. Mary found – and she had never done anything like it before – that she, too, was unable to look at this...this _miracle_ before her.

Her heart is so full that it hurts.

Reginald opened his mouth, tongue flicking out to moisten his chapped lips, "Hi."

Peter made a grumbling noise behind Mary, but she didn't hear, "Hi."

Her eyes – fixed in the darkest corner (fascinating, she would swear) – looped back round to survey his familiar face; the sharp features and the smooth skin; the freckles dotted over his nose and cheeks and even a few on his ears and lips; his big eyes, rimmed with bambi-eyelashes.

He held out the flowers, and she rose to her feet to collect them.

Their fingers brush.

Reginald's eyes rise to meet hers.

"I-" Mary began to admit.

"I-" Reginald tried to explain at the same time.

It was Reginald who continued: "I need to say something." He said, again. "And I've never done anything like this before so I'm sorry if I get it wrong because I want you to have _everything_ in life, Mary. Because you deserve it." His shoulders squared, and he looked directly into her eyes with the kind of intensity Mary was used to recognising only on a physical level.

The mystery from before vanishes.

"I don't want to lose you," Reginald told her. "I don't want to have to go around every day knowing that you're somewhere, and I don't get to talk to you. I don't want to have to wonder how you've spent your day, or how you'll spend the next. I want to be part of your life, forever. And...look, I know I'm not big, and handsome, and rich and funny and daring like other people. I know that you're worth more than me, but-"

"You are," Mary interrupted, despite herself. Her eyes were brimming with unshed tears, her breathing came in short, haggard laughs of incredulity. The smile that split her face was unadulterated, pure, and before she really meant to she had taken a step forwards to clasp his small hands in her own. "You are worth so much."

She blinked the tears from her eyes, sniffed back a sob.

Reginald looked...Reginald looked like he had never seen anything more beautiful.

She kissed him.

* * *

Hayley opened the door to the girls dormitory and stepped inside with a smile on her face.

Lily sent her a vaguely affronted look (probably due to her lack of understand how _anyone_ could be smiling right then).

"Mary and Reginald," Hayley said as an explanation, "are now a _thing._"

Lily's eyebrows raised, "A _thing_. How much of a _thing_?"

Hayley smirked, "Enough that I had to leave when they started kissing." She laughed at how Lily's mouth fell open.

"Kissing?" Lily squealed, abruptly abandoning her more mature sadness into girlish enjoyment. She rose onto her knees, leaning forwards so that herself and Hayley were much closer. Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.

Hayley nodded, laughing, "I mean, true love's a myth and all that, and they're a bit too sickly adorable for my taste, but God are they adorable!"

Lily snorted, "True love isn't a myth."

"Yeah! It is!" Hayley, who had turned to get changed into her pyjamas, looked back in amazement. Her expression was a mixture of pity for a naive young girl, and reproach for stupidity.

Lily looked back defiantly, "No, it isn't! You see true love all the time!"

"Like _who_?" Hayley retorted. "Divorce rates are on the rise, you know."

"True love and marriage aren't necessarily exclusive," Lily reported. "But you get people who love one another with all their hearts."

Hayley didn't reply, she just looked at herself in the mirror. Not for the first time that day, though the first time for that reason, Lily felt alarm stir inside of her. Hayley's eyes, she could see, were clouded and uncertain and scared and sad. The smaller, more volatile girl was stilled by some sort of emotion within her and Lily – not knowing Hayley very well at all – did not know what it was or what to say.

"What is it?" She offered her support quietly.

Hayley turned to face her, and by the time she had done so there was no more emotion on her face, "Nothing. I'm perfect, how are you?" She snapped, though not snidely.

In silence, the girl got into her bed, and drew the curtains.

As Lily turned off the lights, and tucked herself in, they both thought the same thought.

They hoped James was okay.

* * *

Remus was asleep – or pretending to be – when Peter let himself into the dormitory. The smaller, plumper boy could see the skinny frame curled into a ball beneath the heavy winter covers, and hear the smooth breathing.

He wanted to wake him with a shake, or a muttered word, or just by settling at the end of the bed. As James would do if he needed Sirius, or vice versa.

The thought has him thinking of them. He wondered sadly if they saw themselves the way other people did. If they realised just how unusual their particular bond was. If they knew how jealous Peter was that they would always, _always_, have someone to count on.

He doubted James could even remember that they were supposed to be fighting.

He doubted Sirius had considered it as a factor as he went to James' side.

That wasn't how they worked; not like the rest of the world. And Peter wanted that. Even a little part of it.

But Remus was asleep and James and Sirius were together (a fact which meant most assuredly that they did not really have time for anyone else) and he just kind of needed to talk about Mary to someone...

But he was alone.

What else was new?

* * *

James was not asleep, Sirius knew.

He also knew that James probably wanted to be alone. Or, at least, that James probably thought he wanted to be alone, and that was why he was doing a terrible job at pretending to be asleep.

Sirius slipped into the bed.

It was...

Okay, he knew it was strange. This...ease they had between one another. He knew that if someone walked in and saw two grown men in bed together they would draw conclusions that were frankly horrific, and utterly untrue; but he couldn't bring himself to live by social conventions when it came to James. Especially not when the crazy, idiotic, retarded but brilliant lad needed him. He loved James in a way he loved no one else, and he didn't care who knew it.

Sirius didn't say anything, but he knew what James would say when he rolled over and – eyes bleary with the lack of glasses – asked.

"What should I do?"

Sirius honestly didn't know the answer, and he is terrified of admitting it because if James didn't know and he didn't know who in the world could know.

"I think you should talk to your mum," he told the boy quietly. "That's who I wish I would want to talk to."

James didn't reply.

In the dark, his mind wondered to his parents, and the rare few times he saw them together. James was a teenage boy; he had always been cynical and rude and put on a show of lack of real emotions. But he knew now, viscerally, that he would never deny true love again. He could remember them...the way their bodies gravitated towards one another, the way their mood's always matched – _always_ – and the way that when they were together everyone else, even their only child, was obliterated by their love. He didn't deny them it, he never had; it had only ever been another cause of loneliness in his life, and Sirius (and Remus and Peter and school and Quidditch) had filled that hole, to various extents. He thought of his parents, and he thought of Sirius and he thought of a red haired witch who despite his best efforts he could not stop loving.

He thought about his future.

He thought about children he would raise, and whether he would be able to put them through what he had lived.

He was damn lucky, he knew.

Could he have had it better? Would life really have been better if his parents had loved one another yes? It was a weird, strange concept, and James felt absurdly alienated by it.

He thought of Lily, he thought of his parents, he thought of the children he would have.

He didn't make a decision in the end. No epiphany struck him as the moon waxed around the earth and the hours ticked past and Sirius' breathing beside him remained just as quiet and just as awake. He didn't know if he should, or if he could. But despite himself, he loved Lily Evans.

He wanted her with him.

* * *

**If you review (please review!) could you take a moment to tell me a)what you think of Reginald/Mary b)what you think of Sirius and James c)the rest of the Marauders. It would be much appreciated, and anything else you can think to say! Thank you very much! The next chapter should be out faster, because it's more intense :) ~Meli**


	16. Look After Him

**Okay, so basically this chapter is all about Lily. She's - wierdly enough, given that I'm writing a story centering around her - one of the characters I understand the least, so I'm sorry if she's been all over the place up until now; I hope this makes her easier to understand. Please, please: if it doesn't can you let me know, because without getting Lily's perspective across the whole story falls apart! Thank you!**

**Anyway, hope you enjoy (and understand) it all**

* * *

The building of Hogwarts had never looked so massive. It was side effect of living in a house, all by yourself, fit for twenty, that James had adjusted to life in a castle with the childish ease that he had. He hadn't really appreciated the way some of the others had how _huge_ the turrets were, and how ominous their presence could be above someone, how many windows decorated the face, how long it took to walk from one corner to the other. It was a big building.

James looked up at it, eyes screwed up a little against the glaring sun that was only partially shaded by one edge.

It was a big building.

"Big, huh?" Sirius commented, from his position lounging against the wall.

James looked at his best friend, and smirked appreciatively, "Big," he agreed.

* * *

Lily was late. She was late and she _knew_ she was late goddamit and she wished all these tiny little first years – she had never been that small, she swore – would just get out of her way because surely they should be moving faster than that and they were slowing her down.

For God's sake!

"Move," she grumbled under her breath, too low for anyone to hear the Head Girl, and fixed on a smile when one of the chirpy little things beamed up at her as she scooted past.

"Good morning! Isn't it a lovely day!" The small creature sing-songed, all blue eyes and white teeth and glowing cheeks. Lily almost wanted to punch her.

"Swell!" She cheered emphatically instead, and hurried on.

She was never going to make it in time.

Her essay would not be in, and she would get marked down and damn if it made her grade go down she was going to get cross.

"Big, huh?" She heard a familiar voice ahead and – just in time – she jerked herself out of the way and into an alcove, safely hidden behind a tapestry. It was an automatic movement, and, to the sound of her deafening heartbeat, she wondered at it.

She didn't need to _hide_ from him, surely. Merlin, she had spent the last three days without him with him in her every thought – worrying, and then selfishly annoyed that he didn't send news – and now here he was, back, and she was...well, crouched behind a picture of some knights, apparently.

Was he ok?

"Big." She heard James agree, muffled through the thick material she had ducked behind, and then two pairs of footsteps proceeding past. She held her breath, and sucked in her stomach as though that would help her stay unnoticed.

It worked – they moved along the corridor without pausing, and without speaking again, and she let out a sigh of relief when she judged they had gone far enough not to hear.

She wasn't _scared_ of seeing him, of course not. Not of James. But he might not want to see her, mightn't he? He had just lost his _father_ and it wasn't as though him and Lily were best friends, was it? It wasn't like they had any sort of relationship that could justify Lily being this wound up, so she was just being stupid and she should just forget it already.

Really.

_Really_.

Lily let her head drop against the hard stone wall behind her, and her parchment fluttered from her lightly shaking fingertips. She had gotten herself into a bit of a mess, hadn't she?

And her essay wasn't going to be handed in on time, either.

Groaning, muttering, Lily shrugged out from her den, blinking in the suddenly hard light, and looked around for her work. It should be somewhere around there, it couldn't have gone far, could it?

It hadn't.

Snape held it out to her with a triumphant expression, all gloating eyes and 'I-just-helped-you-now-you-owe-me' smiles. Lily genuinely considered not taking it.

"You're welcome," he mocked, his voice nasally and grating, and he shook it at her forcefully. She snatched it from him, and she could feel the familiar sting of tears behind her eyes as she grew angry. Of all the people to have been there, of all the people to have – oh God – witnessed her crawling out of a hole in the wall.

She didn't say thank you.

"Just resting there, were you?" He asked, as sweetly – she suspected – as he could. His dark eyes bored into her cruelly; inescapable.

"No," she snapped, automatically riled by his presence into the – and, afterwards, she would regret it – state where she had little control of what she said. He knew it, too.

"Hiding from Potter?" Snape asked, and this time there was a bite in his tone that she felt all the way through her. She had known him long enough to know that he was upset by this assumption. "Or is it Black?" Snape continued before she could reply, "It's a little hard to keep track of all these Gryffindor's you're stringing along these days."

Lily shot him a scathing look, and turned to walk away.

That comment didn't even deserve an answer.

"You used to be better than that!" Snape called after her. "What happened to arrogant toe-rag?"

Lily snapped around so fast that it hurt, and the Slytherin boy – not much taller than her – took a sharp step backwards in alarm as he was met with the point of her wand, "He lost his _father_, Snape. How can you be _mocking_ him right now?"

"Oh, because he ever gave _me _a break?" Snape growled back, the hatred running through him so intensely that Lily doubted he noticed that both his hands had clenched.

"You're doing exactly the same thing he used to!" Lily shouted, ignoring the sparks that jetted scarlet, "But _he's_ grown up since then!"

"Fucking Saint Potter!" Snape bellowed. "So he's all _good_ now, is he? Deserves medals and awards and to win the pretty girl at the end?"

Lily stepped away from him, cold, "Fuck you, Snape. Fuck you if you can't see how cruel you're being."

Snape took a moment to reply (for a second she thought he wouldn't), "I've always looked after my own, Lily," his voice took on a softer, desperate hue, and when he looked up from the ground he had been studying intently, Lily was horrified to see the fear in his eyes. "Please, don't join his side."

The words were knocked from Lily. She had no idea how to reply, no idea what to say, no idea whether she should still be angry when all she could feel was shocked pity.

"It's not him against you, Snape." She stated finally.

Snape snorted, "It is to me. It's people like _him_ I'm fighting."

"Why?" Lily pressed. "Because he bullied you? Because rich, clever, handsome, sporty Potter picked on the weaker?"

"_Yes_!" Snape smiled, triumphant that she understood him.

Lily shook her head sadly, "But don't you see, Sev?" The childhood name slipped from her before she could take it back, and both of them blinked in shock as it hung between them. Awkwardly, she continued her line of thought. "You're joining a side which would do exactly the same."

"They listen to me," Snape defended himself. "I have _worth_ with them."

"_I _don't," Lily pointed out. "I'm worse than discardable. I'm _vermin_."

Snape was shaking his head, "I don't see you like that, Lily, I promise!"

"Convenient that you can say that without your _friends_ around to see you," Lily mocked snidely.

Snape, the early morning light dancing across the gaunt planes of his face, raised his eyebrows, "I could say the same about you, now."

Lily was caught off guard. Could he? Was she only able to have this conversation with him because the others weren't around to see her? In all honesty...yes. But only because one of them would start talking to Snape, defending her, and an argument, and then a fight, would break out. It wasn't that she was afraid of what they would think of her.

"Snape," Lily began quietly, earnestly, "what did you feel when Mr Potter died?"

Snape shrugged, "Amazed. No one thought it would ever happen." He was so callous that Lily had to swallow down a retch. This wasn't her old Snape. He had been someone else.

"Relieved?" She whispered, so that he had to crane forwards to hear her. "Happy? It makes your job easier, doesn't it?"

Snape's jaw clenched, "I'm not going pretend that it doesn't further the cause. Not to you."

"How generous," Lily ground out before she could help it.

Snape snorted in dry amusement (he actually, genuinely found her anger funny, rather than it make him feel repentant).

"What will you do if your side comes to power?" Lily asked next. "After torturing and killing Potter, Black, Lupin, of course."

Snape frowned, "What do you mean? As a job?"

Lily shook her head, "About me? About _Muggleborns."_

Snape smiled, "I can protect you, Lily. I can _protect _you."

Lily allowed her eyes to trace him. His ungainly features that she had once loved; that she had once comforted him about; that she had once teased him for. She took in his more adult frame, the age and hate in his eyes, the sallow tinge to his skin and the permanent downwards turn to his lips.

She had loved him so much.

But she didn't any more. For the first time since...well, since they had met...Lily knew with certainty that she owed this boy nothing. There were no residual feelings left inside her, because the boy she had loved was gone. And he wasn't coming back.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Lily smiled sadly, slipping her wand back into her pocket. "I'm sorry for not being enough to keep you."

He seemed to understand: the hope on his face crumbled and died, replaced by bitterness and distrust, "So that's that. You're picking him over me."

Lily shook her head, "No. I'm picking me over you. Same as you picked you over me."

She turned on her heel and left, to go and give her essay to Flitwick; and she didn't want to cry.

Instead, she breathed out once, deeply, and imagined that her breath was him leaving her system. She wasn't sad – she had lost Severus a long time ago, and mourned him – but she was regretful about this terrible world that could cause a young boy to be so full of hate.

That was partly James' fault, she knew.

Her footsteps slowed and stopped as she thought of something: why could she forgive James for his hatred of Snape, but not forgive Snape for his hatred of James. James _deserved_ Snape's hate, and Snape had never done anything that could have resulted in James'.

Why did James hate Snape?

"Hello, Lily," a voice interrupted her thoughts (and she was grateful, because she very nearly marched off to find him and demand answers, and now was neither the time nor the place).

She turned – she seemed to have done a lot of that – and looked at Sirius with a tired smile, "Hello, Sirius."

The boy lounged against the wall only a few metres away – she was amazed she hadn't heard him creep up on him, but she was also well used to the ways of the marauders – with casual elegance and impossibly good looking.

"How've you been?" Sirius asked, shouldering away from his resting place to stroll over to her. He sat down on the windowsill nearby and patted the space next to himself to invite her to take a seat. She did so, smoothing her skirt over her legs nervously.

Their shadows splayed across the ground in front of them.

"Fine," Lily shrugged. "Better than I imagine you've been. How is he?"

Sirius folded a leg under himself, and turned in his place to survey her. She didn't look at him, but she could feel his eyes on her face, her hair, her fingers tangled around each other, "That's what I need to talk to you about, actually."

"James?" Lily asked, her voice a squeak. His name made her heart beat faster. The taste of it on her lips made her want to lick them.

This was bloody ridiculous. She wasn't _afraid_ of James. She didn't...

"Yes," Sirius agreed evenly, "James."

Lily couldn't help looking at the Gryffindor then, and – though she didn't mean it to – her next question came out slightly accusatory, "So are you friends again now, then?"

Sirius didn't look like he begrudged her the question. His eyes dropped and a gentle smile curved over him, a stillness to his hyperactive figure. He didn't need to answer.

"I love him, you know that, right?" He asked, instead.

Lily's heart stopped.

"You mean-" She asked in amazement.

Jesus. She'd known that they were close, and that they were...she'd known that they were close, but Sirius and James were so _straight_. They couldn't possibly be-. Sirius couldn't have just acted all those women. His _reputation_.

And, fuck it, she couldn't compete with Sirius if he felt that way.

Not that she was competing for anything.

She couldn't believe Sirius was g-

"I'm not gay, Evans, Jesus!" Sirius interrupted her mental diarrhoea with a harsh laugh, and her breath whistled out in relief. He was laughing now eagerly, tapping the side of her head mockingly and muttering expletives.

Lily laughed too, one hand on her furiously thumping heart, "Don't _scare_ me like that!" She giggled, face burnt red and feeling like that would never change.

Sirius smirked, "Homophobic, Evans?" He mocked.

She sent him a jokingly disgusted look, "Of course not, don't be a twat."

"So why scared?" Sirius asked, and – in horror – Lily realised she'd walked right into that one. Stupid Black, planning his attacks in such a way that she couldn't wriggle out of them and now looking at her with that knowing look like he'd won and he probably – read: definitely – had.

"Um," Lily said, brain frozen still.

Sirius patted her hand sympathetically, "So, to summarise: I love James in a platonic way and you're relieved about that though not because you're homophobic. And now you're worried about me knowing the real reason why you didn't want me to love him in that way."

Lily swallowed, "How long have you known?" She whispered. Her eyes clenched shut.

She didn't see Sirius shrug, but he did it anyway, "A while. There's nothing to be _ashamed _about, Evans – he's a good looking bloke, isn't he?"

"I don't-" Lily tried to say. "I don't _like_ – I mean – well – I just – I don't _like_ him like him. It's just...well..."

"A crush?" Sirius supplied helpfully, obviously enjoying the panic on her face. "A fleeting fancy? A desire every time you see him to jump his bones? The wish to be in his company? A-"

"Keep your voice down!" Lily pleaded, gripping his bicep and staring around nervously, straining her ears for sounds of surprise or feet.

"There's no one around!" Sirius dismissed with a wave of his free hand.

"How do _you_ know?" She grumbled, but knew well enough to take him at his word. He didn't bother replying, so she continued, "You _can't tell anyone_."

Sirius rolled his eyes, "I wasn't going to. I just wanted to have a bit of a chat with you about his current state of...emotional wellbeing."

Lily hated herself for having briefly forgotten that his father had died.

"Right," she nodded, throat dry. "What...?"

Sirius looked at her piercingly, "I need you to be sensitive, alright, Evans? I don't much care about the long term affects, it's all about him making it through the week. Just...look after him, won't you?"

She frowned, "I would have done that anyway."

Sirius nodded, "I know, I know, you're the good sort. But then you hid when you nearly bumped into us, and I thought I'd just remind you that looking after him requires being in his presence."

Lily flushed, "It was an automatic reaction, it won't happen again."

Sirius didn't chuckle, "I don't know, if you did it once..."

"It won't happen again," Lily promised, taking his hand and squeezing once for reassurance. "Do you think he noticed, too?"

Sirius shook his head, "I only knew because I had the map."

Lily blinked, "What?"

"What?"

"What map?"

"Who said anything about a map?"

"You did, just now!"

"What?"

With a hum of frustration, Lily dropped it. She would never have gotten answers from him, anyway. Idiotic buffoon.

Sirius patted her head sympathetically, and then changed the subject.

"Why don't you want people to know, anyway?" He asked, a slightly accusatory tone inching into his voice and eyes that didn't suit his carefree nature.

Lily rolled her eyes, "So how come I have to talk to you about personal things, you're allowed to know all of my secrets, but you won't tell me anything?" She wasn't entirely joking, and Sirius knew it.

The boy looked at her speculatively, chewing over the notion for a minute before finally nodding, "Okay then. I'll tell you about the map if you tell me about your feelings for James?" He offered.

Lily burst into smiles – _she was going to learn one of the Marauder secrets _– "You'll tell me about the map?"

Sirius stared at her, dumbfounded, "What map?"

It took Lily a moment (an agonizing one) to understand what he meant by that, and then, once she did, it hit her just what she had to do to earn his trust. She had to – ugh – and – _ugh_. Suddenly, it didn't seem so worth it.

But it was, and she knew it.

"James..." she began, not knowing where to start. His name seemed appropriate, but she didn't know if...well, it didn't make sense even to _her_, how would Sirius – who had probably never had real emotional feeling of this sort ever, he wasn't the type – get it? "James is..."

Sirius watched her impassively.

"I _hated_ him," Lily began again, watching her fingers play with each other as though she were in an interview. "I really, genuinely _hated_ him. What he did, how he used to act, all of it; I wouldn't use the word lightly, but that's how it was. I wouldn't have been sad if he died."

Sirius flinched, but she continued ruthlessly.

"When I lost Sev, I blamed him. I still blame him, partly – he was so awful to him. And I swore to myself that I would never forgive him. And then..." she glanced up at Sirius apologetically, "he lost you. And that was partly my fault, wasn't it? I didn't _do_ anything, but he lost you because of me."

"And you forgave him?" Sirius guessed quietly.

Lily shook her head, "No, but I understood a little what he was going through. And - I don't know – no one deserves that hurt. Not me, not him; not you." She offered him a weak smile that he returned. "And then when he came back he was so different. So...quiet. So reserved. Exactly the opposite of how he used to be – not in _who_ he was but in how he showed it. And, you know, I began, since he was out of my face for once, to notice the who. And..."

"You liked it," Sirius finished for her, nodding in understanding.

Lily shrugged, and the pink began to drain from her cheeks when she realised that he was taking this seriously.

Sirius Black was a lot of things, but he was never callous about James' feelings. Except for once.

And, she supposed, that was why it had been such a big deal when it happened; it went against everything that Sirius Black was.

"So that's it?" Sirius asked, his voice jerking her out of her memories and into the present. "You just noticed him more?"

"Well," Lily stuttered, trying to remember what she had said. "Yes, there's that."

Sirius blinked at her, inviting her to continue, and Lily leapt to her feet in sudden agitation. She was blindly grateful to finally – _finally_ – be able to talk about this, but she could hear herself saying the words, too, and they embarrassed her.

"Why are you embarrassed about that?" Sirius pressed his initial line of questioning.

"Because it's not _me_, is it?" Lily spat. She wasn't really angry but, in the way that a lot of people do, she took out her pent up frustrations in the form of anger. "It's not like me to get all gooey and mushy over a pair of pretty eyes and some muscles. It's not like me to ignore his entire bastard history just because he has a nice smile. I just kind of switched sides, and it's not like me and _I don't like it_. It's..." Her voice trailed off, and she looked at him for the support he had previously shown.

"Human?" Sirius supplied. "Normal? Something to be proud of?"

Lily's jaw twitched, and she considered reaching for her wand to wipe the sympathetic smile she could see growing on his face – though she couldn't see much of it, given that his face was in silhouette and the lighting had not come on in the corridors yet. "Pathetic." She finished.

Sirius rolled his eyes, "Evans, everyone's allowed a change of heart!" He chuckled.

"It's not a change of heart!" Lily insisted. "That's the problem! He hasn't done anything to deserve a change of heart!"

"He's a good person, Lily!" Sirius joined her standing up, towering above her and throwing his arms wide in supplication.

"How the hell should I know?" Lily called, spinning away and tearing both hands through her hair. "I don't really know him, do I?"

"Why don't you try to?" Sirius suggested, darkly mocking but deadly serious.

Lily, without looking at him, shook her head, "I can't."

She could hear Sirius' frustrated, under his breath moaning before he replied properly, "Why not?" His voice took on the cartoon quality of someone speaking to a much younger, much stupider child; it enraged her.

But she had no leg to stand on; not on this point.

She turned back around, "Well, that's part b of why I don't want anyone to know," she muttered. "He...he liked me, didn't he?" She looked into the boy's swirling grey eyes desperately.

He peered back, "Well, duh."

"And I rejected him so many times."

Sirius still didn't understand.

"And here I am, having a unfounded change of heart...just when he's gotten over me."

Sirius' jaw went perceptibly slack, his eyes widened as her last confession slipped out and she closed her eyes, waiting for the blow.

"Hiya!" A very different, cheerful voice interrupted them. Lily's eyes sprung open, and her head snapped around looking for the source just as Sirius leapt away, his hands flying to his hair and coughing loudly in shock.

Mary looked between the two of them, "You two aren't..." She trailed off meaningfully, and Lily – mind still numbed by the intrusion – looked between herself and Sirius in confusion.

Weren't what?

It only took a moment: what _would_ two nearly eighteen year olds be doing close together – her eyes had been _shut_ for Christ's sake! – in a deserted corridor that they now needed to look shifty about. Bloody hell, they couldn't have looked more suspicious if they tried.

"No!" Lily gasped, at the same time as Sirius let out his own strangled protestations.

Together, they sounded vaguely like a harmony of dying cats, and infinitely guilty.

"Right," Mary rolled her eyes, and grinned.

Lily caught her breath and her mind, "You've just got love on the brain, you!" She laughed, tapping the girl lightly on the shoulder. "Where _is_ loverboy?"

Sirius frowned, "Who now?"

"Reginald!" Mary burst in, as Lily turned to explain. Behind her, the torches were flaring into light at long last, and they illuminated the contours of her face. She looked radiant, Lily admired. Genuinely.

"Cattermole?" Sirius assumed. "I thought you and him fell out?"

"They did," Lily cut in, before Mary could confuse the poor lad more, with her senseless girly chatter, "and then last night Reginald stormed into the common room to win fair lady and succeeded." She rolled her eyes, but adoringly.

Hell, she would love it to happen to her, even if she would never admit it.

"Sooooo you're together?" Sirius summarised, looking hopelessly lost by the two girls' brief explanations.

Mary nodded brightly, "Yep! Together like two swans!"

The expression could not have been more horrified, "_Swans_?"

"Mated for life," Mary chirped, oblivious to the suicidal thoughts running through the teenage boy.

"_Mated_?" He choked out. "_Life_?"

Lily burst into laughter, doubled over and hands pressed to her heart. She could hear Mary saying something else above her, but she couldn't hear it over the sound of her own gasping breaths – and she was sad of the fact, too, because it was likely hilarious.

Finally, getting her breath back, she straightened with aid of the wall, and began to listen in again.

Mary was describing how Reginald kissed her.

Sirius looked like he wanted to die.

"You know what?" Lily cut in sympathetically, "Why don't you go and ask Peter, he was there, and he can explain the whole thing in a boy-talk kind of way, ok?"

Sirius could have kissed her.

"Right!" He agreed, backing away fast. Mary's hand automatically snaked towards him, as though desperate to cling onto her latest Reginald-story prey. "I'll leave you two to your girl talk." He mouthed something incomprehensible at Lily as Mary turned to smile at her co-female.

"I'll talk to you later, yeah?" Lily called after his fast retreating back, and he glanced back over his shoulder at her in question. "About your side of the deal?"

He grinned and nodded, waving goodbye.

"So," Mary began eagerly, gripping Lily's forearm tightly in excitement, "guess what he said to me this morning!"

"Evans!" Sirius voice – like a saviour's light – beckoned her attention, and she turned away from the brunette to listen. "I wouldn't worry that much, about part b!"

By the time she understood, he had vanished smugly around the corner again.

"What's part b?" Mary asked in confusion, her gentle brown eyes clouded with the emotion.

Lily could barely hear her over the pounding of her heart.

Right.

* * *

James flopped onto his bed, obscenely grateful for the lack of company. Oh, he adored Sirius – and would not have gotten through the past few days without him – but he just kind of needed to be on his own right then. Admittedly, it was probably Sirius who had orchestrated this James-time right then.

Sneaky bastard always did know James well.

The Gryffindor boy rolled onto his side, kicking off his shoes and gently massaging the complaining muscles of his abdomen as he arched his back. Perhaps some of the workouts he had been doing recently were a bit much – it had been a long time since he last ached like this.

Speaking of, they were very behind on their Quidditch; they hadn't had a practice in nearly a week.

Well, unless Hayley had sorted it out (and she could well have done, it would be just like her). He should go and find her, and ask.

He hadn't seen her since Diagon Alley: she had vanished after the argument with her fellow. Understandable, that she would want to be alone after that.

Well, James thought it was understandable. It wasn't like he could actually understand, having never been in a relationship, was it? Just guesswork. And he didn't count those second year relationships as real relationships, nor the dates to Hogsmeade as relationships because they weren't, they were just a way to pass some time.

A relationship was...

Fuck it, what was he doing, analysing what a relationship meant. Bloody girly. Something, oh, he didn't know, _Mary McDonald_ would do. As she sorted her hair.

He genuinely felt a little ill that he had been so close to such blasphemy.

He spent too much time on his own, where was Sirius?

"James?" A hand dented the billowing material of the curtains, sending waves of calming air over James' face, and before he knew it he was gratefully pulling them open to reveal a relieved looking, slightly covered in chocolate, Peter Pettigrew.

"Hullo, Pete," James greeted, "Why do you have chocolate on you?"

Peter flushed, "I took some of Sirius', you don't think he'll mind, do you?"

He would.

"Nah," James assured, "course not. He's a reasonable bloke isn't he?" He shimmied back, inviting the chubbier Maruader to join him in the half-den formed by the three red walls around them.

"I suppose," Peter muttered doubtfully.

James slung an arm around his dubious friend, "Don't you worry, I'll protect you!"

Peter blushed, but he couldn't help a smile, as well.

"So?" James hurried the conversation along from the pause, taking his arm back and slouching back. He accepted the chocolate Peter offered – Sirius always bought the best chocolate. Smarmy rich kid.

"So, what?" Peter asked through a mouthful. His small blue eyes blinked nervously at James, as though he suspected him any moment of turning his back on him. James didn't look volatile, did he?

Well, that was kind of cool.

"So, why the chocolate? Bad day?" James asked sympathetically. He didn't honestly give a shit – could Peter really, _really_ complain that much about Divination, when James' dad had just...

Peter pulled a face (it improved him, James thought, and then chastised himself), "Mary."

James looked at him, waiting for him to expand. Peter looked back innocently, evidently not understand this relatively easy bit of body language.

"And?" James enunciated clearly. "What did horrible Mary do?"

Peter shrugged mournfully, taking another chunk from the pure Belgian, "That's just it, isn't it? She's not horrible, at all."

Understanding now, James nodded slowly and solemnly, "Ahhh, I see the conundrum. Lady friend troubles. Someone has a crush."

Peter blushed, "Well...I have had for a while."

James feigned surprise, "Really? I always thought you fancied Sirius."

Peter looked confused, "But I'm not gay."

"No, I-" James began to explain the joke with a sigh. "You know what, never you mind. Mary. Tell me more about the trouble about Mary."

"Right," Peter nodded determinedly and, with the stash of chocolate having fully depleted, allowed himself to collapse backwards onto James' mattress and talk to the ceiling, for ease's sake. His fingers knotted the duvet, and his spare arm hooked under his neck for support. "Well, her and Reginald got together last night."

"_What_?" James interrupted, jerking to a sitting position. "Reginald Cattermole? _Tiny_ Reginald Cattermole? Tiny _couldn't even act tough towards a fly_ Reginald Cattermole?"

Peter nodded mournfully.

James pulled a face that was half disgusted, half impressed. "Struck above his weight a bit there, didn't he?" He grunted the rhetorical question out, as he lay back down.

"Yes," Peter answered eagerly. "Exactly! She could do better, couldn't she?"

James didn't answer for a moment, "Well, she is out of his league. But it's not all about looks, is it?" He couldn't believe he was having this conversation. Sirius would _never let him live it down_ if he knew. _Ever_. "I dunno, if she's happy then perhaps he's the right guy."

"But what if he _isn't_?" Peter questioned needily, taking his turn to sit up and stare down at his companion. "What if she isn't looking hard enough?"

"Well maybe eventually people have to stop looking for Mr Perfect and start looking at what they've been missing the whole time!" James defended the girl's choice.

"But what if she's _still_ missing it?"

"Pete!" James growled. "If you're meant to be together, you're meant to be together, end of! It'll happen in the end if it's meant to, and there's nothing you can do about it except, oh, I don't know, _talk to her_! Which, have you ever done?"

Peter blushed, "I've talked to her."

"Talk to her more," James ordered, swinging his legs off the bed and shoving his feet into his shoes and his arms through the sleeves of his jacket.

"Where are you going"? Peter squeaked, as he got to his feet and left Peter kneeling on the bed.

The door banged open, and a humming Sirius entered to survey the scene with disinterest, "What's the situation?"

James shrugged, pausing in the doorframe, "Peter ate all your chocolate," he snitched easily.

Peter didn't even glare at him, he was too worried about his destination, "Where are you _going_?"

"You ate my chocolate?"

James thought about the answer as Sirius cross examined the smaller boy. Pictures danced across his mind.

"I'm going to talk to her," he murmured, and let the door close behind him.

"To Mary?" Peter called desperately.

At the same time: "_All_ of my chocolate?"

Frankly, James didn't care.

He was grateful for the near-desertedness of the common room on that lazy Tuesday morning; grateful for the system he had cursed so often for keeping the younger children in lessons until the end of the day, giving the rest of them some peace and quiet.

His thoughts were those of an old man, he contemplated.

Peace and quiet.

The younger children.

Grateful to the system.

Once upon a time, James would rather have done anything than think like this. He would have distracted himself somehow or another, or he would just have dropped the line of reasoning, or he would have simply convinced himself otherwise.

He clattered out of the portrait hole, and looked around for the telltale flash of red.

He should have really stopped to get the map from Sirius, but he didn't fancy going back now and he quite fancied the searching stroll around the castle. He set off for the astronomy tower, first, hands in his pockets and lazy.

It was bloody cold out, wasn't it? He could feel it through his jacket, and his breath blew out visibly before him.

James blew harder, admiring the swirling patterns in the air.

Pretty.

Oh, god, he really, _really_, needed distracting.

James laughed to himself, rough and vulnerable and alone; mocking.

"What?" Lily asked, from where she was sitting – unnoticed – towards the end. Her legs were curled beneath her, and one hand lay against her cheek, between her face and the wall, and for a second the sight of her literally knocked his breath out.

"Um," James swallowed, unable to think.

The light was catching her cheekbones, and turning the tips of her hair golden. Her eyes were hooded and tired and _green_.

Lily shrugged off the wall, rolled so her back was pressed against it, and slouched back down. There wasn't really enough room for two people who weren't together, but when she offered it to him he took it.

Her leg was half the size of his.

James began recanting some lyrics in the back of his head.

"So, how've you been?" Lily asked gently.

Or that, that worked too; talking about his father to distract himself from how...beautiful she was.

James just shrugged, what else could he do? His dad had died and he was devastated and he didn't want to talk about it.

Lily patted his hand, "So, Sirius was going to tell me one of your secrets, earlier," she changed the conversation lightly, twisting to face him with a smirk and a wink.

"One of my secrets?" James joined in, touching his chest meaningfully. "I doubt that."

Lily let that pass, "One of your, plural, secrets. One of the marauder secrets," she drew out the given name in mock adoration.

He raised his own eyebrows in faux astonishment, "One of the marauder secrets?" He mimicked her way of talking, and the smile that it drew was enough to keep him going. "Well, which incredibly important marauder secret?"

She took his false self deprecation with amusement, but when she replied she was serious, "About the map."

James blinked.

"What map?"

Groaning, Lily swatted his arm, "Oh, not you, too! That's exactly what Sirius said!"

James chuckled along, "Well, what can I say?"

"That you two are freakishly similar?" Lily teased.

"He's a little obsessed," James admitted jokingly. "Wants to be me and all."

"Well who doesn't?" Lily waved her hand.

"Exactly!"

The two Gryffindors sat in comfortable silence for a minute, absorbed in their own thoughts. Somewhere they could hear the bell ringing, and then the sounds of movement from one class to another, and then quiet again.

And then James spoke, "So, what did he tell you about the map?"

"What map?" Lily asked.

James punched her lightly in the thigh, and she laughed as she rubbed it, "Alright, alright. He didn't tell me anything. Just that he knew where to find me because of it." She peered up at him quizzically.

James looked away, deep in thought and humming slightly.

"So?" Lily pressed, "What is it? And _don't_ say what is what!"

James smiled, but she could see that he wasn't entirely focused on her, so she let him wait before replying.

"I can't really explain without it here," James said finally. "It's a bit...well, it's a bit incredible, if I'm modest." Lily laughed, before realising that he wasn't entirely joking. "It's a map of Hogwarts, and the grounds, that we made in fifth year. It – catalogues, I suppose – it catalogues all the people – shows where they are – every single person on the grounds – and we can find them."

"You can find everyone." Lily said, after a too long pause. James' heart hammered unevenly, waiting for a real reaction. "You can find _everyone_, _anywhere_."

"Only inside Hogwarts," James swallowed.

"So when no one knew where Mary was and we were all worried...?" Lily let the question trail off accusingly, refusing to meet his eyes.

James lifted one shoulder, "If she wanted to be alone, I wasn't going to force her into company," he let it drop, baring himself to her wrath.

"How decent of you," Lily grumbled. A second later: "_Anyone_?"

James nodded, "And everyone."

"No escaping?"

"No hiding."

"_Anyone?_"

"Yes, Evans! Anyone! We have a map that we've charmed so that it shows every person in the school, and the ghosts, and Mrs Norris, too."

... "How?" The word came quietly, and without any sort of - that James could detect – negative emotions.

He looked up at her in all her confused, angry glory; how the ends of her end curled a little, and the freckles that danced off of her cheeks and down her neck below the collar of her pressed blouse to where he couldn't follow them, reappearing on her slender wrists and frankly quite manly hands. He wished sometimes that she affected him less – that he wouldn't tell her everything she needed.

Right then, he just didn't understand, "What do you mean 'how'?"

Her eyes met his innocently, "How did you manage it? How...how is it possible?"

"The magic?"

She nodded, and his breath came out in a huff as he thought of a way to put it into words. He still didn't really know how they did it: how the weeks and then months of trials and errors and midnight research and sketching a putting everything into better scale (Peter was the only one of them with reasonable drawing skills, and with three eager boys pressing on his shoulders James was still a little impressed that he had managed anything at all) suddenly pieced together and it was there in front of them; functional and perfect and full, somehow, of _them_.

It answered back, for Merlin's sake!

"I don't really know," James admitted. "It took _such_ a long time. And then, it just worked. I don't know how else to explain."

Lily rolled his words through her mind, feeling them out. In the end, over all the other slightly freaked out emotions, she was just...

"That's amazing." She told him, taking his hand briefly (his heart skipped a literal beat, he would swear) and squeezing reassurance into him. "I cannot believe you want to be a Quidditch player, with talent like that."

James smiled softly, "It was mostly my boys."

"Your boys," she mocked gently, and he nodded his approval to the statement with equal amusement.

"And I'm not..." James' voice, alone in the corridor, trailed off to hang in the still air. "I'm not so sure about that, any more." He finished tiredly.

Lily slipped her arm around his waist, and rested her head on his shoulder, "The world isn't fair, James. I'm sorry about your father."

James pressed his temple to the top of her head, and waited.  
For her, he thought, he would wait forever.

* * *

**Long sections! Completely crazy for me, I know! **

**Anyhoo, let me know: a)how the longer writing style works, b)what we think of Lily, c)what we think of James, d)what you'd like to see in the next chapter (and I'll try to get it done). Hope you enjoyed it! Thank you to all reviewers of the last chapter, and thank you for reading! ~Meli**


	17. Not The Usual Seats

**Hi yis all. This is a pretty hefty one - not content wise, I don't think, just length, so good look with that. Reeled it off pretty quickly, because I've had some time spare and I was buoyed by the news of Elton John going on tour (I'm so freaking excited I can't even), but don't expect another soon, because I've got another story that I'm neglecting and I should really go sort that out..**

* * *

The morning after a full moon was, on the surface, often very dull. There was no...rushing, or squealing, or banter. It was a tired drudge of students to perform well enough that they did not arouse suspicion; and it worked because they knew their jobs – and the teachers did not find it all that unusual that they slept through lessons.

If Remus, and it was a rare occasion, managed to drag himself to the appropriate class, he would regretfully understand their lack of cooperation and efficiency, and he loved them for it almost as much as he hated himself for it.

Under the surface it was a little more hectic.

In all truth, it was not for the Professors and their peers that they put on a show.

It was for Remus.

Oh, they had each and all made the decision to transform, to do everything possible to ease the burden of their last but not least friend. They had known what they were getting themselves into: werewolves, they researched beforehand, were not exactly fun to be around. But it was Remus and...and he was so alone...and they had to do something and this (and it was not their most noble reason, but it was a reason and cannot be ignored) was a pretty cool thing to have under their belt.

Animagi.

The ability to transform into an animal at will. It was cool.

"Fucking stupid idea," Sirius was grumbling that morning, ripping his shirt off his head and bracing his elbows against the sink as James leant above him, wand in hand and a grimace on his face. "Why did we think it was a good idea to go and play games with werewolves?"

James, a frown creasing his brow as he muttered spells, took a moment to reply, "Oh, maybe to help our friend?" He said, not without judgement. Peter in the dorm, sent him a look, and James grimaced again as he caught the end of it. "And we thought it was cool, too."

"Fucking stupid idea," Sirius repeated, with a string of new expletives as James pressed damp bandaging to the new slash along his back.

"What is?" Kelt rolled over, yawning hugely and peering between the encompassing red drapery to try and see what they were doing.

James shut the door to the bathroom, but not before Peter piped up, "Sleeping with Chasie Drew in the year below. Sirius has Chlamydia."

Sirius growled at the wood between them as Kelt's moaning was cut off, "Little shit's just upset he's still a virgin."

"Little shit's just upset his dream bird got taken by someone scrawnier than him," James corrected, and then caught himself. "I mean, be nice."

Sirius snorted, allowing his head to loll forwards to hand in the space between the triangle of his arms. He could almost see his reflection in the polished basin, but he couldn't see James at all; just hear him pottering – and, Sirius defended, if people were allowed to make puns of his name he was damn well going to mock James' – around in the background, looking for new ways to torture his friend in the good name of healing. "You're growing proprietous, mate."

"That's not a word, twat," James thwacked him on the back, on the sensitive skin of his shredded back, and Sirius' breath came in a sharp hiss. He lifted his head to glare at his companion, who sent him a smug smirk in return. "Serves you right, talking about propriety."

Sirius stood sharply, shoving James forward and helping his shirt off (James, who's shoulder was quite severely cut up, did not seem to be managing all that easily), "It's you that's getting all...you know, _sensible_." He whispered the last word, pulling a face.

James shook his head, "Me? Please, I'm the only one of you left with any balls. If-"

"Your balls got taken by this bloody patrol system!" Sirius cut in, holding his wand to the jagged edge of the cut that ran from James' armpit to the base of his neck on the other side.

"The one that keeps the corridors safe?" James questioned innocently.

"The one that..." Sirius thought of a different tactic. "Well, I could keep the corridors safe with the map – and so could you – and there would be no need for me to be stuck with Pete all evening."

"Be nice."

"Seriously!"

James avoided the easy quip, ducking out from Sirius' increasingly violent jabs to face him in the cramped space, "Speaking of the map, what was with the telling Evans?"

Sirius smirked, "She told you?"

The expression on James' face was enough of a reply, and that was good because if he had replied verbally it would have been drowned out by the banging on the door.

"Get rid of your STI's some other time, I need the bathroom!" Marlene called through.

Sirius sent James a meaningful look, swept their bloody t-shirts into the basket for washing, and opened the door suavely.

Marlene appraised the two ruffled, half naked boys exiting the bathroom with a raised eyebrow, "Are you two still pretending to be straight?" She asked dryly, stomping into the room and slamming the door behind her.

Will defended from his position, propped up by more goose feather pillows than he should have and looking for all the world like the cat that had the cream, his girlfriend, "She's always a little moody in the mornings." For some reason Sirius would never understand, he sounded like this was a good thing.

He very nearly – partly out of spite, partly out of thoughtlessness – agreed that he, too, knew all about Marlene's morning habits. But that was a fight for another time, and he dropped it after only the one nudge from James.

"So you were saying?" James continued his conversation, shucking into his school shirt and turning to face Sirius as he did the buttons up.

Sirius glanced at Will – who looked away as though he wasn't listening in – and then at Kelt – who didn't, "Yes, is it a problem?"

"Your Chlamydia?" James asked, putting emphasis on the word so that Sirius (he was always a little simple in the mornings) fully understood.

"I don't have Chlamydia," Sirius shot an angry look at Peter, who smiled and waved but looked genuinely nervous, "I just sometimes make it look like that so that you can have Chlamydia."

"You pretended to have Chlamydia?" James clarified. Sirius nodded. "So that _I _could have Chlamydia?" Again, Sirius agreed.

"Is Chlamydia still the same code I used earlier?" Peter piped up from the corner, and tried to not be upset when he was promptly ignored.

"So, you knew I wanted Chlamydia?"

"Well, of course you would rather you had Chlamydia than I had Chlamydia!"

"But you would rather I had Chlamydia than you had Chlamydia?"

"Just respecting your prior wishes, mate."

James rolled his eyes at Sirius' brazen grin.

"Chlamydia makes no sense in this context," Kelt informed them dryly, shrugging his school bag onto his shoulder and heading for the door.

"Unless you two are really, _really_, twisted," Will agreed.

"Or gay," Marlene climbed back into bed.

"So was Chlamydia good?" Sirius ignored them.

James laughed and slipped his shoes on, "Oh, the best Chlamydia I've ever had."

Grumbling, Will pulled the curtains shut around him and Marlene; and James would bet it was partly to protect them from infection.

He was still laughing as he left the room, and walked straight into Lily.

"Hello, Evans!" He smiled at her, gesturing her down the stairs ahead of him, "And why are you sneaking out of the 6th year boy's dormitory in the early hours of the morning, eh? Walk of shame?" He was pretty certain he didn't sound jealous, that much.

Lily rolled her eyes, "Yes, obviously. Oh, those 6th year boys. No, but seriously, they were having some trouble with some argument or other so I had to go and sort it. Honestly, I didn't pay much attention – I just wanted to escape Mary and all her happy lovey dovey nonsense."

James laughed, "Wow, you're a supportive friend, aren't you?" He waved away her protestations with more serious talk, "You could have asked me to talk to the 6th years, you know. They're bigger than you and stupid enough to get brawny about things they're angry about. And they're sixteen, it could have gotten...unsavoury, easily enough."

Lily smiled at him, waiting for him in the common room as she reached the bottom ahead of him, "I can look after myself, it was alright."

James nodded earnestly, "I know that."

They stood in silence for a moment before Lily started backing away, having no reason to stay in his company now, "Anyway, you weren't in the dormitory to ask, I checked." She turned at the foot of the stairs, her back to him as she finished. "Walk of shame?"

James swallowed, watching her climb ahead of him, knowing he had no excuse but hating that she thought that...

"Lily!" He called her down, and could not help noticing the hope on her face as she hoped for more of him than he could give. "Remus won't make his patrol with you tonight, shall I cover for him?"

Lily blinked down her disappointment, unjustifiedly gutted that he could not say he was alone the night before, "That sounds sensible, good plan." She shot him a thumbs up – a _thumbs up_, for Christ's sake! – and nearly ran up the stairs, eager for Mary's chatter to distract her from an unduly lovely pair of hazel eyes.

Who needed men, anyway?

Behind James, watching Lily leave his sight, Peter bumbled down his own set of stairs, stuffing papers into his worn bag and stumping his toe on the corner of a table. Catching sight of his friend, he made his way over, chubby face split in a grin worth of merit, and clapped James on the shoulder.

"Coming to breakfast?" He asked, chirpily.

James shook his head, turning away from the entrance to the girl's dorms, "Nah, mate, shoulder's not feeling much up to it. I think I'll go and check on Remus – you eat for me." He headed away, and Peter – left behind, surprise surprise – nodded as though he had some say in the matter.

"Right," the small Gryffindor said. "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

Remus hated the waking up the most, the day after. Genuinely, he would rather transform – rather forcibly break every single bone in his entire body, have every nerve ending ripped from place and rather lose control of his very mind – than wake up. Transforming was losing what he loved; waking up was keeping what he hated.

When Remus woke up he remembered everything from the night before; the rats eaten and the bites taken and the scratches and the howls and the banging haphazardly into things because he just wanted to _rip_, and _tear_, and _shred_.He remembered the monster inside of him.

When Remus woke up he remembered how he was bitten in the first place. He could hear the branches smacking his window, and he could remember deciding to wait just ten more minutes to creep into his parents' bed, terrified of the storm and the wind he would swear was howling. He remembered the door coming down, and the smell of wet dog, and the pain in his shoulder unlike anything he'd felt before.

When Remus woke up he saw his parents' faces. His mother, drawn and tired and desperate to have someone else's child to look after. Oh, she loved him, and he knew that; but he knew that his...deformity had ruined her life as well as his own. And he wouldn't blame her for blaming him. And his father, too; or his father when he had last seen him, ducking out of the house – promising to come back, although he never did, two weeks after Remus was bitten. Never heard from again.

And, worst of all, when Remus woke up he remembered that this would continue for the rest of his life.

There was no cure.

There was no way out.

There was no hope.

He was a werewolf, and there was nothing he could do about it, and he might as well quit whinging and deal with the fact that he was deservedly the lowest of the low. It was for good measure that he was forbidden from marrying, from having children, the he had to disclose his condition to employers and that he could not complain when they did not hire him.

This time, Remus swore as he woke, he was going to tell his friends to cut their losses.

Groaning, gripping the polished white railing of the bed frame, Remus threw up into the bucket conveniently placed beneath his chin.

"Hello, there," James greeted cheerfully enough, pulling the saturated bucket away from the heaving teenager and replacing it with a fresh container. His legs crossed at the foot of Remus' bed, and he had found a newspaper – dated, so irrelevant – on some table.

He would be doing the crossword, Remus guessed. Remus knew.

"How..? Did...?" Remus gasped as he thought for breath, glaring up at James with a ferocious expression that was not angry but desperate.

"Not a hiccup," James promised. "Sirius has a bit of a scratch – it's tiny, I promise - and everyone else, including you, is just fine. Just fine, I promise!"

He patted the relieved werewolves hand as he collapsed onto the mattress again, and went back to his crossword with all the nonchalance of someone who had gone out on a risky jaunt with a werewolf a thousand times. A hyperbole, for sure, but the essence was true.

Remus should really tell him to cut his losses about now.

But he was tired – it was the day after the full moon! – and he would do it later. He would! He _would_!

"What time is it?" Remus grumbled, craning his neck to see the clock at the far end of the ward, but his eyesight was still bleary, and instead he came to rely on James.

"I'll have to leave in a minute, lessons are about to start," James pulled a face, and set aside the newspaper. "So I'll go and get Poppy to come and _tend_ you," he winked sleazily at Remus, who rolled his eyes and rolled away and thought that maybe only James – and Sirius – could see the poor shmuck helping heal a werewolf as sexy.

"Sex on the brain," he muttered to himself.

"I'm sure, dear," Poppy Pomfrey soothed, and Remus sent a chuckling James a flinty look as he prayed to die. Instead, he blushed.

"So, I'll be off then?" James made a vague gesture, waved goodbye, made some sort of flirty comment to the middle aged healer, and headed whistling for the exit.

Remus watched him go as Poppy handed him various salves and lotions and drinks. He had an awkward grace, did James Potter. Remus would cut his losses later, for sure, he would. But...for now, he was just grateful that he didn't have to wake up alone.

* * *

The clique system was frankly in disarray, Kelt observed from his corner.

What was the world coming to, when only the Slytherins were in their organised structure? Mary McDonald clear across the other side of the room, sitting with the geeky Hufflepuffs; Hayley and Lily making small-talk; Sirius lounging with Peter instead of James. Where was James anyway? And Remus.

Only Kelt was in his usual seat.

"Have you noticed only you're in your usual seat," McNair said by way of greeting, rotating in the unusual seat he had chosen for the day to fix the Gryffindor with greedy black eyes.

Kelt wanted to punch him.

Had he ever noticed before that McNair had one nostril noticeably bigger than the other? Inbreeding, he was sure.

"Fascinating," Kelt said stoically, and shuffle his work in the hopes that the bastard would leave him alone.

"Isn't it?" McNair agreed. "None of them-" He gesture to the tree quarters of the room that Kelt could stand the company of- "even noticed, I bet. But I did." His eyes shone with the vindictive pleasure of someone who thought they were doing a good job, and were evil. He looked rather like he wanted to kill something. "I notice you, Kelt. The world's leaving you behind, isn't it? But you've a chance – I'm _giving _you the chance – to join in something _new_. Something that will promote what we all want, deep down." He smiled in a charming way. Charming, truly, it said. "Aren't you a Gryffindor? Aren't you all? So how come it's the Slytherins that are fighting an unjust system."

Kelt leant forwards, lowering the pitch of his voice to match McNair's. Avery, on McNair's other side, followed suit, and the three of them were close enough that the breath of words coming from Kelt were heard clearly.

"You're right," Kelt started quietly, and the two Slytherins shared victorious glances. "It is the Slytherins fighting, isn't it? But tell me something: which class are you two – either of you, or better, both – beating Lily Evans in?"

McNair's ugly expression soured.

"Any?" Kelt continued, voice growing harsher with each syllable and fists tightening in equal measure. "No? So what in the world would make you think you're better than her?"

McGonagall strode into the room, and just behind her James Potter, and McNair rotated angrily to slouch down in his seat without replying. Kelt sat back, satisfied.

James, who had headed towards his own usual seat, stopped short on seeing it occupied by Peter, and sat next to Kelt – grumbling at the backstabbing tendencies of his friends, but endearingly.

Kelt was grateful for the company...

Until James started drumming his fingers on the desk, and then jittering his leg, and then doodling on scrap parchment until it ran out and Kelt, leaning over and whispering, threatened to snap his quill.

James pulled a face back and – thank Merlin – McGonagall took that moment to ask them to practice the spell.

James pulled it off with ease, damn him.

"I don't think I like sitting next to you," Kelt informed him easily enough, swiping his own wand through the air determinedly and watching as the fish stubbornly refused to grow legs. "Who even needs fish with legs."

James shrugged, not paying much attention, "They say that's how mammals started. Fish, that learned to come onto land."

Kelt rolled his eyes, "What would a pureblood know about evolution?" He teased.

And then James looked at him with confusion, and Kelt realised he was actually very close to the mark. James didn't know a thing about evolution; he had just picked up a random fact from somewhere.

"Are you teasing James about what he doesn't know about the world?" Hayley asked eagerly, dropping into the seat hurriedly vacated by McNair (now closed up tight with Avery and a reluctant looking Snape in the far corner). "Talk about football," she suggested.

James groaned theatrically, "Not this damned sport again!"

Kelt got to his feet, "You know, I think I'll go and practice over there, you two argue about sports right here, go ahead."

They ignored him, and Kelt went to sit beside the now alone Lily.

"Bit rowdy for you over there?" Lily asked, after a moment's peaceful work. Kelt mumbled an agreement, and they lapsed back into quiet as they both dedicated themselves to the task at hand.

Sirius appeared, "What is this, the boring corner?" He swung a chair beside Lily, straddling it the wrong way, and yanking her wand from between her fingers, ignoring her disgruntled expression.

"What _is_ it with you marauders?" Kelt near exploded (but quietly, composedly). "It's like you never want to give me a moment's quiet! First this morning with your nonsense about who has Chlamydia, and then Peter and his obscene amount of food all over the place at breakfast, and now not letting me work! Not all of us are rich, you know; some of us need jobs, and to get those you need qualifications!" He stalked away, again.

Sirius pulled a face, "Merlin, someone woke up on the wrong side of the acromantula nest this morning, didn't he?"

"Who has Chlamydia?" Lily questioned.

"I didn't eat obscene amounts," Peter defended, "Not compared from how James eats!"

"But you're no James, are you?" McNair sauntered past smugly, looking Peter up and down cruelly.

James accidentally tripped him as he made his way over, "Did I hear talk about Sirius' Chlamydia?"

"I _don't_ have Chlamydia!" Sirius grumbled, and James winked at Lily over his friend's back as he flopped onto the table they centred around. She smiled.

* * *

Remus, thoroughly miserable, was heading back to the common room alone. It wasn't the others' fault (he usually waited for them to leave lessons, to escort him) but he really, really couldn't be bothered to lie there and pretend that he was like everyone else that ambled in and out throughout the day.

You couldn't really compare getting caught up in a hair loss charm to lythancropy, could you? Anyone who tried deserved a smack.

The corridors twisted and unfurled ahead of him quite without him being aware of it, and he was glad that he knew the way because he was sure that the pounding in his head would have sabotaged his attempts otherwise and he didn't really want that.

Several second years skipped past at some point, late for their lesson and childishly, naively, uncaring of the fact; ungrateful because they did not desperately need an education to survive in the world. Not caring that a few A's at OWL levels were enough for them to be ok, when some...some would fight every milestone, no matter how well they did.

Remus was often used to the cruelty of the world, and the harshness of what he faced.

But some days – and that day was one of them – it just hit him in the face and he couldn't really think about anything else.

Kind of like the person who collided straight into him, forehead first, as he turned the corner onto the Charm's corridor.

Her books spilled from her arms into Remus', and from there, fruitlessly, onto the floor; as if in slow motion he watched them clatter around, pages bending and breaking and reels of parchment scattered.

"I am _so_ sorry!" He gasped out, falling onto his aching knees to help her hurriedly gather her things.

The girl, crouched before him, shrugged it off, "It's not your fault, I wasn't looking where I was going." She apologised, and looked up at him.

"It _is_ my fault!" Remus disagreed, "As the person not with their things all over the floor, it is on me to take the blame."

"What a gentleman," she assured him, her lips parted in a sweet little smile. "Downright chivalrous."

Remus blinked, "I try." It was something Sirius would say, he knew; but he spent enough time with the boy for some less savoury characteristics, and she didn't seem to mind his brazenness, so he didn't apologise for that, too.

"Where are you headed?" Remus asked her, peering at the titles of the essay.

"Alchemy," she informed, sitting back on her heels and trying senselessly to order her notes.

Remus' eyes shot up, "Is it good? I always thought that I should have taken it..." He trailed off thoughtfully, taking in the slight girl with more appreciation and definite nostalgia.

"Fantastic!" The girl's eyes, when they flew up, were brilliantly enthusiastic. "So...so _brilliant_, really! Just, the things, the inventions, that they come up with! It's incredible! It's _incredible_, the way that they just...oh...I don't know..."

"Change the world?" Remus supplied with a grin.

She returned it, "I suppose. These experiments, and at the end they've learnt something new about the entire world."

Remus nodded appreciatively, and held out her essay.

"Why didn't you take the subject?" The girl asked, her soft brown eyes probing his face with gentle pity.

Remus shrugged, "There's no jobs at the end of it, I suppose."

Something inside her flinched, "I'm sorry."

Remus was suddenly very uncomfortably aware of how intimate the moment was – he was sharing bloody _life choices_ with a girl he had literally just crashed into – and, more primal, how close her body was.

"I'm Remus Lupin," he offered his palm, and then regretted the choice. It was sweaty, he would guess.

He could see her eyelashes, and feel her breath fanning his fingers as she looked at his hand.

"I know," she assured. "You hang out with James Potter and Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew."

Remus blinked, "Most people forget me and Peter."

"Peter and me," she corrected primly, as though by nature.

Remus' mouth dropped open. He had not – he had _not_ – just had his grammar corrected by some girl that he had just met, who took the option he wished he'd taken and who was actually very pretty and very close by. He had not.

Well, he had.

And, to make it worse, she'd corrected it correctly.

"Right," Remus stuttered.

"Why would they forget Peter and you?" She asked, rather than press her point (and Remus was grateful for it). "Surely you're just as much part of the Marauders" – he knew she was mocking the name – "as James and Sirius?"

Remus shrugged, "A less flashy part. And we kind of outgrew the nickname," he could not help a blush.

The girl patted his hand – his heart jack knifed – and stood, urging him to follow suit, "I never much liked flashy things, anyway."

"Right." Remus repeated, unsure of what – and where – this conversation was.

"I have to go to lessons," the girl gestured over her shoulder, and began to back away.

Remus stopped himself from saying 'right', but could not refrain from calling out when she was half way down the corridor, "What's your name!"

She looked back and, absurdly, given the volume of people in the school, he was compelled to apologise for not knowing. She knew who he was, after all.

"Ellie," she called back, in a voice like – Remus would think, to himself, never out loud - a song. "Ellie Kelley." She turned to leave, again, and turned back, again, to a waiting Remus, "And I'd be glad to lend you my books, for Alchemy, if you fancy a read?"

Remus nodded automatically, voice caught, and watched her out of sight.

"Ellie," he muttered under his breath, when he was sure that she could not hear. "Ellie." He turned, unexpectedly buoyed, and not thinking about werewolves for the first time that day.

James and Sirius leant against the wall some twenty metres away, expressions identical down to the same eyebrow raised.

"Ellie," Sirius agreed calmly.

"Have you planned baby names yet?" James asked innocently.

Remus blushed scarlet, "Oh, shut up!" He brushed past them and their teasing, stomping happily all the way back to his dorm, and his bed, and his thoughts. Ellie.

* * *

"Sorry I'm late!" James appeared next to Lily, wearing the eager, boyish grin that she hadn't seen in a while; he was nearly bouncing as he stood in front of her.

Lily smirked, gesturing him along the corridor in their usual direction, and he headed off with her trailing after his lolloping strides, "Someone's keen!"

James looked backwards over his shoulder, all straight jaw and hooded eyes and captivating eyes; and Lily was surprised when her breath caught a little.

"We're not patrolling the usual way, today," James informed her at the end of the corridor, taking her hand in his and tugging her with him towards the staircase in the corner with another inviting smile. Lily allowed herself to be lead, head falling backwards in a laugh.

James stopped suddenly, and she took another step so that they were close; much closer than they had cause; much closer than they could ignore the tiny distances between their bodies. There was a tiny frown on his face as he took some of the hair that had escaped her bun as she laughed exuberantly, and wound it behind her ear. He smiled.

The place he touched on her face seared to near pain, and they both looked down at their entwined fingers.

Lily cleared her throat, face turning scarlet, and turned away, "So, how are we patrolling?"

She could nearly hear James running a hand through his hair, across his eyes, but his voice, when it came, was carefully neutral, "You'll see, you'll see. You women - always wanting to skip to the end of the story."

She faced him, pulling a sceptical face, and his eyes crinkled when he smiled lopsidedly, "Maybe men are just rubbish storytellers?"

James snorted, "Now, that's just not true, is it? You shouldn't lie, Evans," he reprimanded softly, teasingly.

"Tell me a story, then," she challenged, taking the lead in both the conversation and their slow amble to wherever James was going. She ran up a few stairs and waited for him at the landing.

"A story..." James mused, tugging on the lock of hair behind his ear. She batted his hand away when he was close enough. "Okay then. So, earlier today, after Care Of Magical Creatures, Sirius and I headed back towards the Common Room to find Remus, who you'll have noticed - you better have noticed, you – wasn't it lessons today."

"Right," Lily understood, nodding him on.

"So, Sirius and I were ambling through the castle, talking lightly about this that and the other, when we hear voices talking," James' voice dropped lower, and she walked closer so that she could hear. "And we can tell it's Remus, but we don't recognise the other, so we get very quiet" – again, his voice dropped – "and we crept closer with the aim of finding out who our dear Remus was talking to behind our backs."

"We hit the corner onto the Charm's corridor, and he's just around it but out of sight, so we agree that Sirius will take a sneaky look. And he does, and when he pulls his face back his eyes are wide and he can't talk except one word: girl."

"See!" James pointed at Lily's expression, "That's exactly how I looked! There's no way that Remus Lupin, prude extraordinaire, was talking to a girl! So I, slapping Sirius a little for his lies, look around. And it's true. There's Remus, _on the floor_, talking to some quite pretty Ravenclaw girl very excitedly. And she keep brushing her hair out of her eyes, and biting her lip" – James mimicked the actions – "and he's hanging onto every word, and I'm, to be honest, a little worried they'll have sex right then and there and what would that do to the poor kids trying to learn Charms next door?"

Lily laughed, shaking her head, "I believed you until now!"

"I'm not joking!" James insisted. "Sirius was nearly hyperventilating! So eventually they stand up, and she heads off. And Remus calls her back, asking her name (the sly dog didn't even know her name!) and she replies Ellie something or other. Sirius and I come around the corner, waiting for him to explain himself, and we might have made a few remarks about something or other – he was _muttering her name under his breath _– and he stomps off, this dopey smile on his face and blushing and all sorts of adorable mushy twelve year old stuff. And that's why I was late, as well; I was matchmaking with Sirius."

Lily raised an eyebrow, "Matchmaking?"

James nodded solemnly, "'Tis the Marauder's solemn oath that, in times of need, three Marauder will help one Marauder."

"And when it's not times of need?"

"Point and laugh."

Lily laughed again, utterly disbelieving – for the most part.

"So you guys match-make a lot?" She asked jokingly, as James steered her down another corridor.

He looked at her, "You think it was _my_ idea to post you a thousand singing cards two Valentines ago?" He raised a black brow.

Lily chuckled, "God, I was so cross!"

"_I_ was going to go with long stemmed red roses and an engagement ring?" James offered sweetly, stopping in the middle of the corridor suddenly and looking around.

Lily looked around, and found nothing to see, so replied instead: "Bit cliché, try harder," she teased.

James laughed once, and started walking...only to spin around and walk in the other direction a moment later...and then again after a few steps.

"What are you...?" Lily began, gawping at the pacing boy.

And then the door appeared, and she abruptly lost the ability to talk. It was just _there_, when it hadn't been there before; pretty and inviting and smelling of those old woods that she loved so much.

James opened it, and gestured her inside.

The room was high ceilinged, but not that big. There was a fire on the far side, and several comfortable arm chairs dotted around; a rug – one of those big, furry ones that she always forgot the name of – tossed diagonally in their path; windows overlooking the star lit lake, the forest behind it, Hagrid's hut glittering lonely at the edge.

It wasn't a _pretty_ room - the walls were a little shabby, and none of the pictures on them matched (nor did the furniture, for that matter) but the fire crackled, and the light caught the frames, and the vases, and it looked so _warm_, and so cosy, that Lily stepped inside as if in a dream.

"How did you...?" Lily whispered, gaping at the room in wonder.

James, behind her, gently pulled her cloak off, and when she looked back he was hanging it on a hook on the back of the door, along with his own.

"It's called the Room of Requirement," he told her, taking her hand again and leading her to the fireplace, where she sank into one of the armchairs and him into the opposite. "It's made to be useful in whatever way possible. Whatever you want: you only have to ask, and the room will give you. Just think of it."

Lily closed her eyes, casting her thoughts around as she thought about what she wanted, right then. She was aware of James close by, but had to hurriedly discard that line (how embarrassing, if a bed appeared in the corner) of thought, and the slight ache in her stomach. She imagined some freshly made bread, grapes, bacon...

When she opened her eyes, nothing was there.

James took in her disappointed expression, "Did you want food?" He asked, smiling. "Everyone thinks of that, first."

Lily laughed weakly, still disappointed.

"It doesn't work because the room relies on Transfiguration," James told her matter of factly, toeing off his shoes and pulling his legs into his chest as he shuffled closer to the fire, "so Go-"

"Yeah," Lily understood suddenly, "Fifth Law, got it."

James nodded appreciatively. He appraised her quickly, and turned his face away to call, "Lemons!"

With a crack – and a slight, embarrassed shriek from the unsuspecting redhead – they were joined suddenly by an old and rather withered house elf, grinning toothily as it swept into a low bow, first at James then at Lily, "Master James?"

"Hiya, Lemons," James ruffled it's sparse hair, and it swatted his hand away with a reproving look that James countered with a grin, "how are you?"

"Very well, master." Lemons nodded in satisfaction. "Everything in the Manor is well, though Twitchet never shuts up."

James laughed, imagining the young house elf fondly.

"What can I do for yous, sir?" Lemons asked, turning to face Lily; including her in the offer of servitude.

James grimaced apologetically, "Any chance of some food?"

Lemons beamed in the way he always did when he realised he was about to perform a task really well: "At the Manor, we just finished cooking some lamb for your mother, but she won't eat it. There's some roast potatoes to go with it, too, sir. And some cabbage."

James pulled a face, "I'll skip the cabbage, thanks." He looked to Lily.

The redhead stared between the two of them, "He'll-" She began awkwardly, and then caught herself, and addressed Lemons, "You'll bring us food?"

Lemons nodded cheerfully.

Lily swallowed uneasily, "Lamb sounds lovely, thank you," she whispered. The elf disapparated loudly. Lily threw a pillow at James, "You have _House Elves_?" She hissed in a whisper – though they were alone, so it was unnecessary.

James caught the offending item near his face, "Three of them, since Merlin died a few years ago."

"You called one Merlin?" Lily asked, distracted.

James rolled his eyes, "No, he was called Haserly, I just nicknamed him Merlin because he looked like a Merlin."

Lily blinked, "Right."

"Is it a problem?" James asked, apparently at ease, as he sat back to study her.

Lily shrugged, "I'm not really sure. If...well...I suppose they don't mind, do they?" She sounded like she was asking permission, and James leant forwards to catch her trembling chin between his fingers. He forced her to meet his eyes.

"They don't," he agreed, just as Lemons reappeared and laid their meal – steaming and smelling delicious – between them, on a low table.

James pulled his onto his lap as Lemons vanished again, "So what were we talking about before Lemons and food distracted us?"

Lily followed suit, groaning a little as the lamb nearly dissolved on her lips – it was wrapped in rosemary, and tasted a little like caramelised onions and was cooked _just right_, "I don't know, something about Remus, and then Ellie, and then matchmaking."

James laughed, "That's right, Sirius and his matchmaking."

Lily beamed, "I'm ridiculously happy you two are friends again," she informed him chirpily.

James pushed his food around his plate with a half smile, "We would never have lasted not being friends."

"Still," Lily shrugged, "we were all waiting for you to get a move on and forgive him."

James allowed the crunching of the fire to fill the silence as he thought about that. He _had_ taken his sweet time forgiving the boy. But Sirius had really, really hurt him. Even now, thinking about _that_ made James want to punch something. Most often Sirius.

Of course, he couldn't say that to Lily.

"He's my best friend," he said instead, simply.

Lily looked away, her solemn face in profile, "Things like that can change."

And they were on the subject of Snape suddenly, awkwardly, and they were both thinking about that day, and what was said, and what was done.

"Lily...I..." James tried to explain, to say anything that might wipe that expression from her face.

Lily turned to look at him, smiling very faintly, "It's ok. James, it's okay. I don't...you know, I don't love him anymore. I miss him – but I miss the little boy who I knew so long ago, not the person walking the corridors, you know?"

James didn't, because he hadn't really ever lost Sirius, had he?

"It doesn't hurt." Lily finished, determinedly.

Good, James wanted to say. "I'm sorry," he said quietly instead, surveying his hands rather than look at her face. "I was...I was _such_ a twat."

"Bit more than a twat," Lily said calmly. "Hell of a lot more than a twat, if I'm honest."

James nodded, a lump in his throat that was entirely because of her dislike and nothing to do with his own actions.

"Why?" Lily asked. She looked over James, "You had everything, why did you have to..." Her fingers shook with residual hatred; she might not care for Snape anymore, but bullying was so...so disgusting, so completely vile, that she still could not forgive him it.

James looked up at her then, "I didn't have everything. I had a lot, I'm not denying that but he...he had what I wanted." Lily frowned, not understanding, and James, hating it but owing her it, clarified: "He got to be friends with you."

..."Oh." Despite everything, she had not expected that.

"He was such an evil little _shit_," James ground out. "All those hinting at Dark Magic events, all that mocking and jibing and...and there he was, best friends with a muggle born himself. Even if it hadn't been you, I'd have hated him for what he was doing. But..."

"But it was me." Lily finished for him, and he nodded, looking away again.

"You were so pure," he chuckled a little, "so nice to everyone – bar Sirius and myself – and he didn't deserve you. And he was evil."

"Evil's a little strong, surely," Lily said quietly.

James laughed again, utterly without humour, "Evil is exactly the word for someone who would eradicate an entire group of people for existing. For people who believe they're better than everyone else because of the circumstances of their birth, and who aren't afraid to... Some of the _things_ they do, some of the things you read in the paper..." He shook his head, disgust evident all over in the dim firelight. Slowly, gradually, he regained his composure, and raised his eyes to hers, "It's like the fight against slavery, isn't it?" He pointed out. "It's like fighting for black civil rights, or women's rights, or any of that, isn't it?"

"They think they're doing the right thing," Lily pointed out. "They're fighting for their beliefs, the same as us."

James sent her a look of scorn, "Except our beliefs don't include murder."

She let that one go; it was true.

"So, why are we here instead of patrolling?" She asked finally, changing the subject forcefully before the gentle truce between the two of them that had been sustained for so long now snapped.

James grinned, sour mood abruptly forgotten with boyish eagerness, and he pulled a slip of parchment from his pocket with a wink, "So I had a chat with my boys," he told her, "and they agreed that..." he unfolded it, and muttered something under his breath as he tapped it with the wand.

Lily's mouth fell open.

The curlicues of ink spiralling across the parchment, startlingly black, had a strange hypnotic beauty to them. Delicate but strong, they reached the furthest corners, merging and twisting to form words, and pictures, and this picture of the castle was appearing before her and she couldn't understand how it was done but it was so _breathtaking_.

She didn't even notice the dots of people, clustered in the common rooms, until later.

James watched her watch the map, her fingers hovering just millimetres from the parchment and her mouth slightly open. Her eyes were wide, catching the light from the fire, and – after the original burst of a gasp – he didn't really know if she was breathing.

Her fingers traced the corridors, stopping suddenly, and she looked up, "Where are we?" She asked, voice loud.

He looked to where her fingers were: the corridor outside, and the conspicuous lack of a room.

"We were never able to really get a fix on this room," he explained, "because the proportions are changing, and it doesn't really exist most of the time, see?"

She nodded, and went back to her examination.

James pulled out his Arithmancy.

Eventually – the fire had nearly died down and Lemons had returned to take away their dirty dishes – Lily sat back, "There's no one on the corridors," she reported quietly.

James looked up, and grunted, continuing with his doodling of a Quidditch game.

Lily smacked it out of his hands, and – disgruntled – he swung around to face her, "This is... This is just... You're not allowed to play Quidditch for a living, I forbid it."

James smiled, "Okay, mum."

"I'm serious!" Lily insisted. "You're too damn talented for your own good, and you're just going to have to cope with it."

James nodded mockingly, "So you're saying I should go into the map making business?"

Lily glared at him, "Oh, that's really clever, pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."

"I _don't_ know what you're talking about!" James muttered. "How is having a cool map going to help anyone in life?"

"It's not just maps! It's...it's leadership skills, and charisma, and being able to do _anything_ in Transfiguration. You could be in the Ministry, or an Auror, or a teacher, or-"

"Teacher?" James cut in, "And have to deal with people like _me?_"

Lily grabbed his hand, "Think about it."

James offered her a smile, and a squeeze of her fingers, "I will."

"Good," Lily swallowed, and released him, pulling away quickly before she did something stupid like kiss him, with the firelight causing the golden in his eyes to be more prominent and his hands warm around hers and their bodies leant towards each other, and their passion spiking between them and...

Well, she leant away, just in case.

"What about you, anyway?" James asked, also tilting backwards and checking over the map quickly (all clear).

"Job wise?" Lily asked. "I want to be a journalist. Political correspondant."

"Fun," James said dryly.

Lily shrugged, "Someone has to write those articles you pore over every morning," she pointed out.

James smirked, "You watch me every morning?"

"That's not what I meant," Lily blushed. "I just know that you read the political articles."

James smiled at her, "I know, Evans, relax," he brushed her shoulder. Lily, with her head tilted to one side, looked up at him.

"You know," she said softly, "I reckon I owe you something, for showing me the map." Her eyes glistened teasingly, her tongue wetted her lower lips.

James swallowed, and thought very briefly of Lemons, "Oh? I thought you and Sirius had some sort of deal?"

Lily shrugged, "Did Sirius tell you what I told him?" She asked meaningfully. James shook his head. "So, then, I figure you're owed something. Ask me anything."

James knew what he wanted to ask her: a question that he had asked so often before; a question that had been the backbone of their relationship for so long. She was so pretty, and she was so close and they were having real conversations and...and everything he learnt made him like her more. And he wanted to ask her so much.

But he wanted her to say yes, and right then he wasn't sure.

And he wouldn't risk this – them in this little room, sharing secrets and meals – for anything.

Lily knew what she wanted him to ask her: it would be so simple, he could ask her what she had told Sirius, and she would tell him, and he would kiss her. And she shouldn't want it but she _did_ and she was tired of pretending otherwise now.

"Do you still hate me?" He asked her, quietly.

Lily blinked past her disappointment – unexpectedly harsh – "No. No, James, of course I don't still hate you." She smiled at him; a trembling wisp of a smile, fragile and desperate. James nodded, eyes filled with emotion that she couldn't even try to guess at.

"There's a couple of Ravenclaws sneaking out," James told her quietly, looking at the map. "Do you want to go, or shall I?"

Lily got to her feet, "I will."

James let her go.

At the door, Lily turned around, looking back at him. Her hair curved around her neck, and her face was sombre; and he looked at her with bare honesty, "Good night, James."

"Night, Lily."

Her name tasted strange on his lips.

* * *

**Okay, so there you are, hope you like it :) Tell me what you think of Ellie, and Kelt, because they're the two I don't know how I feel about in this chapter, thanks!**

**Please review! ~Meli**

**Ps. It'll snow soon, for those of you who knew what that means... ;)**


	18. Separation

**Hi, yis. Hope you're all okay, yadda yadda yadda. This chapter's a bit experimental in style (basically, I just finished reading The Shoebox Project, which if you haven't read you totally should - just type it into google - and took inspiration from that) so please give me feedback on what you think about that, so that I can veto/add it from/to the list of good writing styles. Thanks!**

**Hope you like this, it's the beginning of the buildup, mostly...**

* * *

Hogwarts at Christmas was beautiful, Lily always thought. The castle glimmered in the early evenings; it was so still and quiet and bright – some sort of beacon, standing alone in the dark, frosty winter; of warmth and gathering. She knew it was just a building, of course, but she also knew that it was so much more than a building, and that was what made Hogwarts special.

The trees that littered the hallway were decorated overnight, though no one had ever seen them become so.

In the Great Hall, stars rotated slowly high above. Or Lily had always called them stars; they could be anything, she supposed, small and dainty and glowing, and occasionally dropping to flit around someone's head. They could be fairies, for all she knew.

"Don't you find it weird, how so few people stay and it's still decorated like this," she gestured around the place, her back to the procession of eager kids skipping through the snow to make their way home for the holidays.

James looked at her affectionately, "Your nose is bright red."

Lily sighed, "I'm trying to start a decent conversation, here."

James wore a long suffering expression, "Okay – have you ever stayed over the holidays?" Lily shook her head, "I have, so trust me when I say it's not under-decorated for a small group of people who can't spend Christmas with their families." His voice might have been joking, but she knew he meant it.

"How many times have you stayed?" She asked, blowing warm air into her hands and holding them to her face in an attempt to keep the icy Scottish air from giving her some sort of illness.

James passed her his scarf – typically Gryffindor red, with golden tassels – and counted on his fingers, "First, second, third, fourth, sixth." He shrugged.

"Not fifth?"

James replied in the negative, "Sirius had some...issues at home that year...and Regulus was staying...so..." He shrugged awkwardly, pulling a face that was synonymous for 'I'm-a-teenage-boy-and-uncomfortably-close-to-saying-something-emotional' and shut up firmly.

Lily smirked, pretending she hadn't noticed, "So why not this year?"

They were interrupted by the appearance of Sirius himself, rubbing sleep from his face and with his cloak slung over his pyjamas and bare foot, "We _are_."

Lily looked between them – one boy inspecting the milling third years acting cool with affectionate disdain and the other smiling at her abashedly with boyish charm – and rolled her eyes, turning away, "You two are utterly ridiculous."

"That's why you love us," Sirius looked at her meaningfully, teasing etched into every line of his face, wiggling his head and biting his lips.

Lily sent him a warning look, "Are the others staying, too?"

Both nodded together and Lily felt a rush of affection and, surprisingly, reluctance to leave.

"Well, all the girls are going," she told them cheerfully. "Mary's been whinging about not seeing Reginald, and Marlene's spending the holidays with Will because obviously she doesn't get on all that great with her mum, and Hayley's...well, I never really know what Hayley does." She laughed a little, shrugging in embarrassment.

"Hayley's going home, because Kingsley's somewhere mysterious doing something mysterious, etcetera etcetera," James informed matter of factly, righting a girl in the year below who had tripped.

She simpered up at her, her little white teeth beaming and her long blonde hair swishing over his fingers on her arm.

Lily did _not_ want to punch her.

"Feeling aggressive?" Sirius muttered in her ear, brushing some snow off the low wall and taking a seat beside her.

"No," she muttered, casting furious eyes at her opponent – no, _not_ her opponent, just Melanie in the year below, she wasn't trying for anything.

Sirius barked a laugh, and James looked over at them from where he was talking to Melanie with an expression that Lily could only describe as longing. And Melanie, clutching James' fingers and wearing far too little for the climate, knew it too. Lily gave her a little victorious smile, and the pretty blonde turned to leave, and it felt good.

"Like a pro," Sirius complimented her, and she beamed at him brightly, springing to her feet as James came back.

He gave them a funny look, "What's with all the sneaky little private meetings between you two?" He asked suspiciously.

Lily and Sirius exchanged a look, "Sneaky little private meetings?" She scoffed.

"Do I know what you're talking about?" Sirius said at the same time.

James rolled his eyes, "I'm watching you two, okay!"

Lily patted his hand, "Sounds ominous."

"You manly man," Sirius chipped in good naturedly, yawning again. He stood, "Anyway, sorry to break up the party, but I have breakfast to scavenge." He gave them a brief wave and ambled away.

Lily watched him until he reached the door, and then looked around to see James watching her shrewdly.

"What's going on, Evans?" He asked pointedly, glancing over to where Sirius had vanished and back at her.

Lily rolled her eyes, "Nothing! Jesus, Potter, you're paranoid." She shot at teasing. Something spiked across James' expression and she remembered, too late, what had happened last time that her and Sirius had gotten close. Shit.

James forced a smile to his face, "Pushy, aren't you Evans?"

Lily touched his hand, "Why are we back to Evans?"

The weeks since James had showed her the map and they had talked about the Snape drama had contained a building tension between them. Oh, on the surface they were okay: they called one another by their first names and often Lily could be found in the Marauder dormitory, sprawled across either Remus or James' bed (she staunchly refused to go near Sirius' as she laughed that she didn't know what disease she could catch, Peter felt uneasy – everyone else laughed – about a girl being on his bed, Will's bed was reserved for Marlene and no one in their right mind would intrude on Kelt's private space) and whinging about some sort of Arithmancy essay. And James would help her. And then they would patrol together (Remus tried not to take that he now took the Thursday shift with Celia Mosby personally) in the little room they both privately thought of as theirs.

James – read: Lemons – supplied food, and Lily had taken to bringing along muggle records of hers.

Every time James was closer to kissing, and Lily would have kissed him back from the start, but neither of them made that move and it was straining at them.

"I've always called you Evans," James defended. Lily turned away and he caught her hand, searing hot against the frigid snow, "Lily, _Lily_, I'm sorry..."

She looked up at him, "What _is _it?"

James couldn't hold her eyes, "I'm just not going to have a good day today, that's all." His face was set in stone, and he hadn't released her.

Lily stared at his slender fingers, dark against the paleness of her freckled forearm, "Well stop taking it out on me that you didn't sleep well or are on your period or something."

James dropped her, turning away, "Oh, I'll keep it to myself that this is the first time I'm going home since my dad died, shall I?" He spat.

Lily's heart fell through her stomach, and her apologies were spilling forwards before she had time to really think because this was _really, really_ bad, "I am _so _sorry, I didn't think, oh my god, how could I – I am _so_ sorry. Really, so sor-"

"It's fine." James interrupted her, turning with a wry smile and a gesture to some student. "But you're going to have to leave now if you plan on getting that train."

She looked, and saw that the last few carriages were jittering with impatience and the last few stragglers were climbing aboard, "Right." She picked up her case, walking away. This was...this was ridiculous. It _wasn't_ fine, and he clearly hadn't forgiven her and she didn't want to be walking away but what else could she do because _they weren't together_.

Except...they were friends, right?

"James?" She span around, and startled back instantly because he was closer than she had thought he would be – right behind her. One hand pressed against her heart and the other holding her steady against the carriage, she pushed her eyes up to his and forced herself to hold them against the pounding, relentless to look anywhere else. "I'm sorry...Forgive me?"

His body curved down towards hers, his fingers fluttered against her neck and his eyes bored into her and – at _last _– he was going to kiss her. Lily's breath smoothed out and her back arched upwards towards him, but she didn't move. They stood locked, the heat between their bodies keeping them warm in the winter.

"Lily," James murmured, soothing along her jaw, "I would forgive you anything." His lips touched her cheek, lightly, and then moved to her ear, "Merry Christmas." He whispered, and then he pulled away.

Lily got into the carriage, and it pulled away, and she couldn't breathe.

She looked at her companions – two young boys in Hufflepuff yellow and black who stared back at her with mixed expressions of childish wonder and adult pity, "You should have kissed him," one of them told her forlornly, shaking his head in dismay at her ignorance.

Lily moaned into her scarf.

_His_ scarf, she realised in shock, holding the fabric away from her face and gazing at it in horror. What was she meant to do with his scarf? She couldn't _cope_ with his scarf! She couldn't deal with this right then, not when she was a little scared for her health and couldn't think straight. She couldn't have his scarf!

Eyes wide, she darted a look up at the boys, holding the red material out to them with a desperate expression, "Unghf." She groaned.

"Yes, yes," the boy on the right promised, pushing her hands down and patting them sympathetically.

Lily curled up in a ball, her baggage lumped beneath her and James' scarf pressed to her face. It smelt like him.

"What's wrong with her?" The quieter of the two asked – the one with the pale, wispy hair and the eyes that were too big and too blue.

"Love," the other – brawnier, ironically – said wisely.

"Ib _buuut_ ib bubb," Lily mumbled from out of sight.

"Ah," the ghostlier one said, and the carriage pulled into the station. One of them pulled her bags down, and the two vanished – not entirely ungratefully – and Lily lay there.

Somewhere, a whistle blew, and a hand gripped hers tightly and Lily looked up into the faintly disgusted face of Hayley.

"If you don't get on the train now," Hayley grumbled warningly, yanking Lily's arm and spilling them both onto the floor, "you're going to have to go back."

Lily sat bolt upright.

She could not go back. She could not – imagine – never – she cou – _imagine_ pulling back up to the castle and having to explain that she had missed the train and _why_. Briefly the surprise on James' face crossed her vision, and then horror filled her like lead and she was darting towards the steam engine with Hayley, carrying her things, trailing behind.

"You're welcome, your Highness," the smaller girl griped, dropping Lily's holiday bag on the carpeted hallway floor as the train shuddered into movement.

Lily sent her an apologetic look, "I'm sorry, I just...I don't seem to know what's gotten into me..." (she did, and he had a name).

Hayley snorted without amusement, "We both do, and he's got a name."

Lily burned scarlet, "...You know?"

Hayley began to walk away, "I might not talk much, but I hear a lot. And when you begin to like James Potter, it becomes common knowledge." Her voice was hard, and she banged through the doors at the far end of the section before Lily could reply.

What was her problem? Lily mused angrily. It wasn't like Lily _wanted_ this to happen.

Grumbling internally, the red head stomped towards her usual end of the train – in the opposite direction to the one Hayley took. Her and Hayley were hardly best friends; they got on at best, and Lily owed the girl nothing, so she would just put it out of her mind and go and find her friends.

Easier said than done, for when Lily did locate them (not in the usual place, but in the Hufflepuff carriage with Reginald) she found herself looking in on hands clasped and happy, flirty little smiles, and faces glowing with love.

She pushed open the door, "Is little old me allowed in or is it couples only?" She teased, taking a seat by the window: opposite Will and beside Reginald.

The Gryffindor's greeted her with various cheers, and the Hufflepuff blushed, and Lily counted this as good because she knew them well enough to know that they wouldn't fake cheer and Reginald – who she didn't know very well at all but had spoken to occasionally – was just a shy person.

"We didn't think you'd made it," Mary said, around her boyfriend's skinny body, her face pulled wide in a bright greeting smile.

"It's a risky game, living on the cliff edge of life," Will chided gently, and Marlene leant against him with a warm smirk and something whispered in his ear that Lily couldn't quite catch and didn't really want to. She felt a little queasy, all this relationship-ness suffocating her slightly.

Lily yawned dramatically, "Yeah, that's me, outside the rules of the forest."

Marlene looked at her with reproach, but the Gryffindor boy didn't seem upset by the mockery, he just chuckled and shook his head like she'd missed the point.

"Were there some children left behind?" Mary asked, sensing the tension in Lily's body and turning it away from Wills poetic nature.

Lily shrugged, "Two boys..."

Two boys – but it was actually Lily holding everything up as she nearly kissed James Potter.

Two boys – who had to witness Lily's meltdown in the carriage (thinking about it, Lily swore that she would avoid those two boys and never think about the incident ever again ever).

"Did you give them a telling off?" Mary lowered her voice into the tone she considered to be severe.

Lily pulled her McGonagall face, "Indeed."

They all chuckled.

Will turned with his back to the window, Marlene's body between his legs and together they pulled out a battered Bronte novel and began to read in silence.

Mary and Reginald began to talk – her more than him – animatedly but quietly, her fingers tracing over his skin and his eyes all over her face.

Lily twiddled her thumbs for a moment.

"So, I think I'm going to go and find Hayley," she announced, to the absorbed compartment. Maybe Marlene waved a hand at her in acknowledgement, but more likely she was at an interesting part and swatting away Mr Rochester or someone equally dark and brooding. Lily hadn't read much Bronte, she wouldn't know.

The door clicked shut behind her, and the Head Girl was left standing in the empty corridor.

It was a sad truth that she was often lonely. When she was little there had been Petunia, and Lily had loved her, and then Petunia turned her back on her, and even when she was around Lily couldn't quite connect with her older sister; but she had been able to make up for it with Severus, and this fantastic new world they found themselves in, until the wonder was replaced by the fear of the ever mounting hatred and Severus, too, had turned his back on her; and now...now when she was lonely, she went to find James, because he could always make time for her.

But James wasn't there.

Humming – a habit she assumed she had picked up from Sirius – Lily chose to turn right, and set off determinedly. Her hands found her pockets as she strolled, looking either for her fellow Gryffindor (though, judging by her mood earlier, maybe Lily shouldn't want to find her) or an empty compartment. By the time she reached the head of the train, she had found neither, and the tired girl sank to the floor by the door, tucked neatly out of the way of anyone who ventured outside.

She watched the countryside flit past, and she thought what was ahead – her mum, and her dad, and the house that smelt like cookies and disinfectant, and Petunia – and what was behind – magic, and James.

Right then, she couldn't have picked between them.

Between what she was, and what she could be.

She was tired of all this battling, and she wanted someone to pick for her, and she wanted the best of both worlds, and she wanted everything to be _easy_. And she was well aware how childish, how out of date, that was.

* * *

James collapsed on the bench beside Sirius without even taking a look around the empty hall and shoved his plate out of the way.

Sirius appraised him through his mouthful of something, "Evans?" He asked, wiping his face roughly and – as though James had never seen his chest before – wrapping his cloak tighter around him.

James looked up blearily, nose wrinkled, "She's just so..."

Sirius could think of many words to describe Lily Evans, some pleasant but most stemming from the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach, "In your face?" He offered, swigging some pumpkin juice.

James snorted, "I suppose she is, isn't she? In your face and in your head and..." He didn't say it, but they both knew and Sirius pulled a face.

"So what're you going to do?" He asked instead. "Given that everything's all hunky dory between you two now, and you're pretty much best friends and all..."

"Should I buy her a Christmas present?" James ignored what his friend was saying, rubbing a hand through his hair and leaning against the wall.

"Who?" Remus took a seat beside him, yawning and fully dressed and contented.

Sirius got to his feet, "The love of his life, her royal highness Evans," he mock bowed, grabbed some more bread, and headed off, his strides long and loping.

He passed Peter at the door, who grumbled a good morning and sloped down towards the other two.

"What's gotten into him?" Remus asked, watching Sirius leave with a concerned look on his face. He smiled at Peter, as he arrived, and helped himself to some fruit.

"He doesn't like to share his toys," James replied easily, reaching over to the Ravenclaw table to pick up a discarded prophet. He flicked past the first two pages – both stories about death incidents – and settled down comfortably to read an article by Hanley Squire: in James' own words – the most undervalued writer in the whole country.

"How's Hanley?" Peter asked, taking the plate of food in front of Remus without even thinking about it. Remus shot him a dirty look, but let him.

"Hanley thinks that the Ministry isn't doing enough to combat the uprising, and that pushing it under the carpet won't help when the carpet starts to fly." James said, biting one lip as he devoured the column greedily.

"What toys?" Remus questioned.

"James," Peter replied, putting tomato sauce on the fruit.

"And that's really gross," James chipped in, gesturing to his friend's controversial meal.

"But James isn't a toy," Remus pointed out, squinting down to where Sirius had left as though that would explain it to him.

James set down the paper in frustration: "It's not that hard, Remus! Sirius considers me his property because up until nowish I have been his property and now that I'm not entirely his property he's being petty and getting all angsty because he thinks he has nothing left, see?"

Remus blinked.

"Sirius is jealous of James and Lily's new friendship," Peter translated.

Both boys looked at the chubby, smaller one.

"Thank you, Peter," Remus patted him on the shoulder, and picked up James' abandoned paper.

"You sir," James complimented, "are on top form this morning." He took a look at the scavenged item, decided against fighting for it, and stood to leave. "And now I'm going to go and play Quidditch."

Peter, flushed with the pleasure of a compliment from James, jumped up, too, "Shall I come?"

James looked at the boy, and smiled kindly – well, he considered it to be kind – "Let's not push your luck, yeah?" He headed off, whistling, and Peter sank back down.

"Ketchup?" Remus offered kindly.

James turned the corner at the end of the row, looked back over his shoulder at the friends he left behind, and turned away from the Quidditch pitch. Out of sight, he pulled the map from his pocket and muttered the password, unfurling the section that he needed.

It was weird every time that there were so few dots around the place. With a view of the whole thing, he could appreciate just how _empty_ it was. It left a lot of hiding places, and that should have made Sirius harder to find, but James knew exactly where he was before looking. He just needed to make sure he didn't run into anyone on the way.

He headed off.

"So, are you going to tell me what this is about or do I have to worm it out of you?" He asked twenty minutes later, having collected some fire whiskey from the dormitory and found Sirius at the top of the Gryffindor stands.

"What, _what's_ about?" Sirius grumbled, answering the question.

James sat down beside the sprawled boy, "Okay, here's how this is going to work: you're going to sum up, in one sentence, what the problem is, and then I'm going to reply in one sentence. And that's going to be it, okay?"

Sirius grabbed the bottle, "No."

"Is that your sentence?"

"Was that yours?"

"No."

Sirius chuckled, and sat up, taking a swig and wincing as the bitter taste hit the back of his throat, "It won't change anything, though," he took a hard look at his best friend, "will it?"

"Yes," James insisted, rolling onto his knees between Sirius' legs and holding the handsome boy's gaze. "Yes it _will_. It'll stop Remus and Peter fretting if it's all out in the open, for one."

Sirius smiled, "You're such a mother hen."

"A very manly mother hen," James agreed.

Sirius looked away, drinking again. The sky behind him was white, and James watched him nervously as they waited for Sirius to say something.

The truth was, for Sirius, that he was jealous. James had always been this thing that Sirius had and no one else really did; because his parents were never around and James and Sirius were closer than Peter and Remus were to them, and they understood each other without having to try and Sirius didn't know anyone who loved anyone the way James and he loved one another. And now...he could feel James slipping away. Not loving him any less, but being distracted by her, and Sirius _needed _him if this whole war was about to blow up because James was the only thing that kept Sirius going, most days.

It was horribly selfish, he knew, but James was all Sirius had, really.

And for so long, Sirius had been all James had.

James might not think that anything had changed, but it had. Once upon a time James and Sirius had needed each other. Now Sirius needed James, and James wanted Sirius but didn't need him. Sirius was...off balance.

"You are everything to me," Sirius said simply, "and I don't like that I'm not everything to you." He looked at James candidly.

James didn't miss a beat as he replied: "I _love _her, Padfoot..." He swallowed, "but I would leave that if you asked me to."

Sirius closed his eyes.

Without his sight, he could hear James getting to his feet, reaching down for the broomstick that lay at his feet. He could feel the relieved thudding of his heart, and he could think without being overwhelmed.

James would leave her for Sirius.

James loved her.

Sirius had always known that. Always known both, really. He had just never been able to reconcile the ideas. It didn't make sense.

James took a look at his friend, sitting there with his eyes shut and the alcohol clasped loosely in one hand. He wasn't frowning, but James knew that he didn't understand.

"It's like this:" James offered, "you love me. But, for my sake, you left me alone last year."

Sirius opened his eyes, "That made no sense."

"Yes it did."

"No it didn't."

"_Yes_, it did!"

"Oh, bugger off," Sirius got to his feet, taking the second broom, "go and write her a letter already."

James rolled his eyes.

* * *

_Dear Lily,_

_Happy Holidays! How are you? How is the family and the muggle life and your fridges and your ovens and your televisions? Eh? Are you just a little impressed at how down with the lingo I am? I'm good, aren't I?_

_Yep, thought so, virtually a muggle, myself._

_Things are pretty normal in Hogwarts. I say pretty normal, and I mean Sirius has exploded several classrooms and we all pretended we didn't know it was him, we threw a super cool party for the people who stayed (which includes the four of us, a couple of Ravenclaw second years, that freaky kid in Slytherin in the year below and those twins in Hufflepuff) which was totally the funnest thing ever (don't you laugh at us, we were socialising)._

_No, seriously, I'm so bored I've done all my homework._

_ALL OF IT._

_Please help me. Please write me an entertaining reply. PLEASE._

_Sirius wants to go and flood the Slytherin Common Room, and (I promise) I'm saying no right now. I mean, what's the point, with only one of them in it? It would be better to infect it with itching powder or something, all ready for their spectacular return (I love them). But I'll probably give in soon._

_We might go and have tea with Dumbledore tonight, he always serves something interesting._

_Sooooo what are you up to?_

_How are the fridges?_

_Write back soon, yeah? The castle is quiet without you whinging around, messing up all of my things._

_~James_

* * *

Dear James,

Has anyone ever told you that you write like a girl? Because you do! You have ultra feminine handwriting, I would say. I bet you spritz the paper with scent, don't you?

Fridges are fine, oven's doing really good, television's a little grainy but that's forgivable because we don't have very good signal in this area of London; the toaster fused the plug the other day though, and now it won't work so we have to take the car to have it mended. If you understood on that you're well on your way to becoming a muggle, good job.

Oh, Sirius.

Tell him that if he floods the bathroom on the floor directly above the Slytherin Common Room then it will drip through over time and they probably won't clear it up in time for the return.

But you didn't hear that from me, and I don't authorise it. Seriously, burn this letter, I have a reputation to uphold.

I hope Remus is okay with all your tomfoolery (yes, I used that word, deal with it) and that Peter's enjoying not having to learn Transfiguration.

That party sounds like fun.

Nearly as much fun as home life is: do you want to know what I did today? Of course you do. Dear James, today, I , Lily Evans, 1)ate, 2)watched Doctor Who, 3)argued with my sister 4)painted my nails 5)repeated steps 1 through 3 6)repeated steps 1 and 2 again 7)REREAD my essays 8)painted my nails a different colour 9)planned my day for tomorrow 10)ate 11)cried because I got your letter and it was the most exciting thing of the holidays so far.

Yeah. Be jealous.

No, not everything's so bad. My parents are all jolly and happy chappy and keep baking me things, which is great except I don't want to do exercise and am getting some love handles. Don't imagine that, it's not pretty.

And Marlene wrote to me yesterday, and is still virtually married to Will, and it was pretty much an essay on Austen, who you – you uncouth person – have probably never heard of. And I bought a new Elton record, which I'm loving right now. No, there's no exciting guitar solo, but there's some lovely piano, so if you'd broaden your horizons then perhaps you'd like it. Please don't make an innuendo about Elton.

What owl are you using, by the way? I was sure you normally use a tawny owl...?

Write back soon, because I'm considering suicide and should definitely have stayed in the castle

~Lily

* * *

_Dear Apparently-I-can't-write-fun-letters-Evans,_

_Why can't you write fun letters?_

_Seriously: that was just DEPRESSING. How can your holiday be worse than mine?!_

_Okay, whatever, I'll answer it now, don't get your knickers in a twist..._

_Don't make fun of my handwriting. Long story short, that's one of the few things my house elves actually managed to instil in me, and I'm pretty sure that it gets me at least a few marks in Transfiguration and Charms and Potions every essay, so SUCK ON THAT Ms.I-say-I'm-a-feminist-but-don't-approve-of-girly-boys. Yeah, I went there._

_As for the scent thing..._

_You sniffed my letter, didn't you? Don't you deny it letter-sniffer! You sniffed it! Sniffer. Sniiiiiiiiffer._

_I passed on your message. He wants to know if you'll marry him. Remus calls you a traitor. Peter says commendable contribution (which are the two longest words he knows, so that's quite a compliment). As for me...well...I always knew you had a dark side._

_I've framed the letter and will send it to McGonagall for Christmas._

_So what colour are your nails now?_

_Oh, I am jealous. Oh, wait, no I'm not. Rough luck, Evans..._

_...Imagining that now..._

_Um, I know who Austen is. Thanks, you, for that vote of support. She's the muggle authoress who wrote Emma, Pride and Prejudice, Persuasion, and many other great works of fiction that you should really have read, James. I didn't just ask Remus who she was, who me? Never._

_About Elton or about my horizons being broadened?_

_I'm using Pete's, because mine got sent somewhere by Sirius, so 1) will be gone for about a month, and 2) will probably have AIDS when she gets back, poor bird. Not that I'm judging him or implying that everywhere he goes things get AIDs. I wouldn't do that. I love the chump that I'm spending all my time with. ALL OF IT._

_I need a holiday. A holiday from my holiday, because it's stressing me out._

_Awww, are you missing me? You are, aren't you, sniffer? Your eyes are filling with tears as you clasp this parchment to your chest and write poetry – odes, if you will – about how much you miss me. That's cute._

_So, the news in the castle, you ask? Well, dear, thank you for asking: the news in the castle is that Professor Slughorn's leaving. That's right – it's only a matter of time, he shouts when he corners us in dark corridors. Let me tell you, it's not fun being cornered by Slughorn in the dark. There's not enough room for us and ugh. You especially should avoid such calamity, because we all know he's in love with you._

_So, tell me, what does the Evans family do for Christmas?_

_~James, the sniffee_

* * *

Dear I-live-vicariously-through-teenage-girls-Potter,

I can too write fun letters! I just don't, to you, because I know you appreciate the deep and meaningful things in life more than bouncy, happy, living life on the edge. Am I right or am I right?

My holiday is unusually rubbish. Like, I don't even understand how it can be so bad...

I KNEW YOU CHEATED TO GET MARKS THAT TIME YOU GOT A HIGHER MARK THAN ME IN CHARMS! I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! You scaly, you! Ugh! I was so cross, and there you were with your expensive quills and your flicks at the end of the word and joined up writing, BUYING MARKS. Cheater, cheater, compulsive eater.

I only sniffed it because the smell of roses was so overpowering when I opened it. Initially I thought it was _my_ feminine scent...and then I realised it was _your_ feminine scent. And yes, I might be a feminist, but some things are too feminine for boys. You should be, I don't know, rubbing dirt or Quidditch sweat into it or something. Where did you get perfume from, anyway?

Letting you in on all my secrets, aren't I? Well that's all you're getting out of me...

McGonagall likes me more than you, she'll take my side.

My nails are different colours right now! Starting from my left pinkie and going right it goes: fuschia, mint, gold, cerulean, silver (then hand 2) canary, black, forest green, violet, red. Cool, huh? And they're all French manicured. Because I put effort in.

Hahahaha, you totally just asked Remus!

Go and die.

Aww, poor owly. Where does Sirius send her that she's gone for a month?

Slughorn's leaving! No! But he's so _bribable_! That sucks...for the future generations, of course, not for us because school's out for us in only seven months...Hahaha, did you get groped in the dark by the Potions master? He is quite in love with me, isn't he?

Well – I get up at a reasonable time, get dressed and go downstairs and make breakfast (pancakes with bacon and maple syrup, and real orange juice and coffee for those who need it). And then I wake my sister, and we hug lovingly and exchange pleasantries. And then we go and wake my parents, and we snuggle up together in their bed for a while before heading downstairs to open presents under the Christmas tree, which is all lit up and sparkling, and there's snow falling outside, and it's just magical, really. And then we begin preparing Christmas dinner, and while everything's cooking we take cookies to all our neighbours and sing together good spiritedly. And then we come home and eat.

Quite nice, isn't it?

~Lily, the enforcer of masculinity

* * *

_The enforcer of masculinity?_

_Really?_

_That's what you're going to call yourself?_

_Okay, whatever..._

_Dear enforcer of masculinity,_

_Oh, you caught me. My desire for deep and meaningful causes me to sit by myself and contemplate what this brief, fragile, flickering thing we call life really is, and how the best way to reach heaven or will I succumb to hell, and whether there are aliens out there. I actually have talked about aliens, with Sirius, but we were both drunk and he wanted to know what the likely-hood was that if he leapt from the astronomy tower an alien beam would rescue him before he hit the ground. I said likely, but he didn't jump, mores the pity._

_Dude...that was in third year. As in 4 years ago, get over it already? Yes? Though, it's true, I am a compulsive eater..._

_So some of us like roses. Well, since you've enforced my masculinity so well, on this letter instead of nice rose and lavender spray, guess what I put on? Go on, have a think. Have a sniff, if you will. No, not getting it? That's because spit's odourless. THAT'S RIGHT I SPAT ON THIS LETTER BECAUSE I'M A MANLY MAN TAKE THAT. Those water marks? Drool. You're holding a drool letter. You sniffed my drool. Have a nice holiday, yeah?_

_Ha, McGonagall likes me more than everyone else put together, and I'm not even exaggerating. Minnie and I are soul mates, and you know it. She would take my side, especially as I have evidence!_

_...Like, I really didn't care about your nails that much, I was just being polite. And, fuchsia? Doesn't that clash a little?_

_Oh, you sussed me, you Sherlock, you..._

_Sirius knows a lot of people who have to teach themselves to read and write before they can reply..._

_I did get groped in the dark by the Potions master! And there was nothing nice and kinky about it, it was just vile! That man needs to sort out his priorities and go and grope other, more feminine people. I might spit on him if he tries it again..._

_Sirius and I get up at about 4, and then we play fun and games with sleeping people, and then we switch the names around on people's presents so that Remus gets upset when Peter gets nice books, and then we open presents (by this time it's about 5) and then we go and have breakfast 1, and then we play in the snow (by this time it's about 5:15) and then we have breakfast 2, and then we go and mess with out presents, whatever they may be, and then we play in the snow again, and then we bully Remus by destroying all of his thank you notes, and then we play in the snow, and then we have breakfast 3 (about 7, by now) and then we play Christmas Quidditch, and then we still have a full day to do what we want! Ingenious, eh?_

_James, crushed into a masculine world by the cruelness of Slughorn and EVANS_

_PS. Some of us are going into town (and by town, I mean Diagon Alley) on Monday. Would you like to come? It'll just be the four of us and maybe Hayley, so don't expect anything special, but yeah. Come, if you can._

* * *

Dear James, my trainee so that one day he can have some balls and be a real man,

What can I say? My muscles and disgusting manly habits just make me worthy of being your leader, I suppose. Face it, I'm a better man than you.

I thought so. Aliens exist, too. But no, I'm not sure they would have saved Sirius...mores the pity.

Third year, but you never admitted it! You always denied everything, and now finally I have my proof and I'm going to send THAT to Professor McGonagall and see what happens now!

That is disgusting.

You are vile.

I don't want to –

Just-

No –

Never, ever –

Ever –

Die.

Just, go and die.

Alas, 'tis true, McGonagall would take her future husbands side...

You know what, my nails are the most exciting thing about my holidays, so you can listen to me talk about them and you can be impressed, okay?

I don't want to know anything else about Sirius' illegal activities...

Hahaha, he would probably collect your spit in little vials and use it in some sort of potion, he was complaining about being low on stock. Aren't you glad I told you that?

I'm suddenly quite glad that I'm at home. At 4? How do you manage to do all that in 3 hours? Are you drunk, as well? You are, aren't you – you left it out because you're scared I'll tell McGonagall, but you're pissed by 4 in the morning. Typical.

Still, sounds more fun than the lie I told you about our Christmas. There are no cookies There are no pleasantries. There is no family cooking extravaganza. But there is singing and breakfast.

I'd love to.

~Lily

* * *

**There yis are. That sets the scene for the next chapter nicely. There's not very many characters in this at all (sorry) and it might stay that way for a bit (I won't know until I've written the next section, they tend to take on a life of their own and veer away from the plot). Also, I have to update my other story next, because I've got a schedule (whatever) and stuff, so if I don't update for a week or two, I'm sorry...**

**~Meli**


	19. A Day Out

The inside of The Leaky Cauldron was dim, compared to the radiant white outside. The easy familiarity of the pub was dampened slightly by the conspicuous lack of punters – the usual few ringed the bar silently, their glasses never diminished before them and their eyes boring into the mahogany wood as though they had never seen it before. The tables, however, were nearly empty – a few wizards in one corner, a family quietly in the other. Behind the bar the little chain of keys, permitting entrance to the rooms piled above, was as full as it had ever been.

Still, it was a cosy little scene; everyone's local. The roaring fire was especially vibrant, given the weather, and with the fewer guests the workers moved less urgently, giving the place a softer look than the usual bustling style.

Lily, perhaps wisely, had taken a seat at the bar.

On one side she had been introduced to the overweight though still young Howard, who within minutes had shown her a picture of his wife and young child, and told her his life story and woes at work, and pointed out his two golden teeth at the back and then offered to order her a drink (she declined, at which point he ceased conversation entirely); and on the other a much thinner though still young man, with a hooked nose but incredible blue eyes, who hadn't even looked up as she sat down.

She neither begrudged their company nor cherished it, and in this regard she was similar to her companions.

"What can I get you love?" The bartender stopped in front of her, with a confused little frown. He was shocked neither because she was so young, nor so pretty, nor so _obvious_, but rather, very simply, because she was new; and there were rarely new people on the bar line, especially in times like those.

Lily looked up from where she had been carving symbols into the wood with her fingernails guiltily, "I'll have a beer, please," she asked without thinking.

The wizard blinked at her in confusion, "A butterbeer?"

"No," Lily shook her head, "sorry, I wasn't thinking, that's a m-"

Her words of teaching on what muggles drank were cut off suddenly, with an arm draped around her shoulders and the appearance of four teenage boys, grinning and cheerful and too rowdy for them to actually have snuck up on her (but they had).

"Evans!" Sirius greeted enthusiastically, spinning her off her seat in a sweeping hug that forced her breath out and taking her chair as he did so. His fingers found her hair, messing it irrevocably; the irresistible force of Sirius Black enveloped her for a second – the smell of a him a punch to the stomach, her face pressed to his shoulder, and his greeting shouted into her ear; it took her a few seconds recovery, even after she'd been released.

When she did, she noticed James – _James_ – leaning over the bar, greeting the tender easily, as though they had known each other a long time (they had). His face, in profile, was smiling crookedly, and his glasses caught the glint of the wall lamps and he was handsome, wasn't he? All strength and humour and charm and passion.

The sight of him made her pause, her eyes fixed there and unable to move, even when she began to turn to face Remus.

And then James turned, and caught her staring.

Lily's face exploded into colour, equally mortified to have been caught in the act and thrilled to have his eyes on hers again, "Hi."

James beamed, eyes flickering down briefly and then back up, "Hi."

Lily prided herself of being a sensible girl. Oh, she made mistakes, many of them, to varying degrees, but she was conscious of her actions most of the time and made an effort to, well, act right. She didn't _do_ stupid things. She wasn't one of those girls that lost their minds over silly little things. She was sturdy.

And yet, language seemed to have escaped her.

She wasn't very aware of where she was, and who she was with, and what they were meant to be doing.

She knew she was meant to say something.

And she could hear James' voice in her mind, to the feverish pounding of her heart (hihihihihihihihi...).

"Hi," she greeted, breathlessly.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Sirius grumbled, swivelling away from the duo and signalling the bartender that he needed a drink.

"Hello, Lily," Remus took pity on the girl, taking her wrist gently and pulling her around to face him, and the spell of James was broken. Lily blushed again, but she was very aware that James hadn't looked away yet.

She brushed her now knotted hair behind her ear, "Remus, hi."

"Hi, hi," Sirius mocked. James punched him on the back without looking around.

"How are you?" Remus questioned cheerfully, releasing her from his grip but still holding her gaze with his tawny eyes. He looked tired – and this made her wonder briefly what he had been up to that kept him up late, as none of the others (James) didn't appear so fatigued.

"I'm..." Lily exhaled in a huff, shrugging and smiling though she wasn't entirely cheerful, "fine, I guess..."

"How's the sister?" James piped up, face creasing in concern; his whole body seemed focused on her, and she burned with the same ferocity.

She couldn't even glance his way, or she would crack, "She's fine."

James seemed to understand that she would not – could not – talk about this. Not right then; it would spoil her mood for the entire day. At any rate, he didn't push the matter, just handed Remus the drink passed over his shoulder and turned to talk to the thin man that had ignored Lily. Perhaps it was a mark of James' charisma that he managed to prise words from the drinker, but knowing James it was more likely that they already knew one another.

"What've you been up to?" Peter asked, speaking at last from the stool he had dragged over, his chubby face lit up shyly.

Lily turned to face the boy, distracted by this unusual converser, "Not very much really, Peter. I did all my work, and then I've just been at home. Catching up with my parents."

"What do they do?" Peter inquired politely, and she was pleased that he at least pretended that he was interested, though his small eyes flickered continuously to where Sirius was now chatting enthusiastically to a woman on the far side of the bar.

"My dad's a lawyer," Lily told him, "and my mother never worked."

Peter blinked, "Didn't you need the money?"

Lily was saved from the awkward head shake by James cutting in, "Didn't she get _bored_?"

The red head turned to face him again, her eyes hovering on the space between his eyes rather than looking at him directly in them, "I think she probably did. It got harder when my sister and I grew older, but by then she'd found things to do."

James pulled a face, "That's a lot of free time."

Lily privately agreed.

"So," Sirius rejoined their group, "what's on the agenda for today?" He clapped his hands together, grinning exuberantly, though they were only in Diagon Alley and it was hardly cause for celebration, in Lily's mind.

"Did you get blown off?" James asked, rather than reply. One side of his mouth pulled upwards, and he shifted over to make room for the other boy, tossing an arm around his shoulders at the same time.

Sirius pulled a face, "Is the Pope a Protestant?" He mangled the common phrase.

"The Pope's retarded," James combated.

"So was she," Sirius chuckled, casting a fond look at the blonde, who was watching him. She waved.

"Don't be mean," Remus said serenely, looking for all the world like he was used to this behaviour (he was).

The boys ignored him, but Lily appreciated the effort.

"Why do you think the Pope's retarded?" Lily asked, unduly fascinated by James' controversial opinion.

"Oh no," Peter mumbled.

"Now you've done it," Sirius complained.

"Did you have to?" Remus sighed.

Lily looked between the three, turning away, utterly bemused, and then back at James.

He puffed up his chest, breathing in deep and standing very straight, "I don't believe in religion." He told her magnanimously.

Lily's eyebrows shot up, "You don't believe in _religion_? Don't you mean you don't believe in a specific religion?"

James shook his head emphatically, "Oh no, religion in general."

"What's there not to believe in?" Lily scoffed, "It exists, what more is there to it?"

"But _does it_?" James scooted closer, eyebrows raised meaningfully, entire body geared into the conversation. It was a strong selling point of his: this complete attention. It made a girl feel special.

Lily shrugged, "Of course. Catholicism, Church of England, Islam, Hindu, Sikh, Buddhism..." She listed. "They're all established religions."

"Buddhism isn't a religion," Remus muttered from the side.

Lily looked at him oddly, "Yes it is."

"No it isn't," James agreed with his friend. "There's no God in it; it's just a good way of living life. But, all those real established religions you named...what do they stand for?"

Lily frowned, "I don't follow you."

"What is it they stand for? What _is_ the Church of England, for example?"

"It was set up by Henry VIII of England-"

"Without the history lesson," James rolled his eyes affectionately.

..."It's a religious institution-"

"Which is what?"

..."An organised religion-"

"Which is what?"

"A religion which is organised!" Lily exploded with frustration. "And you can play the 'which is what?' game with anything. I could tell you I didn't believe in alcohol-"

"-And I could tell you what it's made of, how to make it, the effects it has, where to get it, what the different flavours are...There's nothing definitive about religion."

"That's because it's about faith!" Lily pointed out.

"Faith in _what_?" James threw his arms out, jumping to his feet as he called his point. "There's nothing _out there_. There _are _no miracles! There's more inconsistencies in religious books than in Slughorn's marking system!"

"Well, if you don't believe I'm not going to change your mind," Lily sniffed. "But I think it's sad that you can't believe in anything you can't see."

James rolled his eyes, taking his seat again (because, in his view, he had won), "That's a loser's argument."

"And that's the tone of someone who will never think they're wrong."

The two heads stared at one another, hearts beating faster and passion still edging through their tones (though now the main argument was over their minds were turning to other passions).

"Are we done or are you two going to have sex on the table now?" Sirius interrupted, seizing James' arm and shaking him.

Lily laughed hoarsely.

"So...what _are we_ going to do today?" The black haired boy prompted.

"As the newcomer, I think Lily should decide," Remus put forth his opinion.

"As the newcomer," Lily mimicked, "I think that you should all show me what you usually do."

There was a beat of contemplation, and then:

"Why is it you don't seem to say things that aren't going to cause problems?" Peter questioned.

"Did you _have to_?" Remus demanded.

The two quieter, less known of the marauders, however, were overridden almost immediately – even as Remus was finishing his question, Sirius leapt in:

"That sounds like an _excellent _idea."

"Top class," James cheered.

"Education on a new way of life."

"Introduction to the proper style."

"Enlightenment to how things should be."

"The coming of the epiphany."

"One tale ends, another begins."

"And what a tale, good sirs and lady."

"For -"

"Okay!" Remus interrupted James, "That's enough! Now that we've established that we're going to ruin Evans in weird and wonderful ways, can we just get on with it?"

Sirius leered, "Just get on with ruining Evans?" He trailed his eyes up and down her body lazily, drinking her in.

James smacked him around the head, "There will be no ruining."

The other pureblood took to his feet, dancing around them all to stand with one hand on the muggleborn's and one hand on James' shoulder, looking towards his best friend with all the innocence of a convicted criminal, "Do you not want to ruin Lily, my love?" He questioned.

James swiped for Sirius' face, and the two vanished momentarily as they grappled awkwardly. Lily, flushed, turned to Remus.

"Sorry," the young man apologised wearily, "Sirius isn't entirely trained yet."

"It's fine," Lily said stiffly.

"We don't let him out much," Peter sighed.

"You shouldn't."

..."We don't." Peter repeated dryly, coming up with nothing else. He turned away from the girl back to his two friends, bending low to get a better view of the action with a beaming smile.

Lily glimpsed an elbow, though she couldn't tell whose, and James' glasses clattered across the floor. Remus crossed to pick them up and, sighing, Lily reached out two slender arms, grabbed the nearest limb, and heaved. Sirius toppled over with a bang, swinging around to violate the intruder with a grunt. Lily looked at him severely.

"Is this what a day out with the Marauders is like?" She said meaningfully, her tone leaving no doubts that she was unimpressed.

James, lying back, propped up on his elbows, grinned warily, receiving his spectacles from the youngest Marauder and slotting them back into place before getting to his feet and slinging a tentative arm around Lily, "This is just a warm up."

"You sure you're ready for this?" Sirius added, all recollection of the fight forgotten.

Lily looked between the four mismatched individuals. Something frightened, something excited, stirred deep within her, and she could feel a smile rising to her face even as she lay her head briefly on James' shoulder, "Let's do it."

They ended up, somehow, circling through London.

Lily was less aware of the time passing than aware of the time spent. They looped circles, starting easily with the bits she knew and they just expanded: branching out here and there to show her this, or to introduce her to that, and she had no idea how they had ever found these wonderful and weird things until they reached parts they hadn't known existed.

And they _explored_.

And explored was definitely the right word.

The boys searched on with the delighted childish enthusiasm Lily thought had left her when she 'found' the mystery world she had always looked for. It had never occurred to her that there might be more. It had never occurred to her that she wouldn't be spoon fed everything, because what she was taught was so incredibly fascinating.

With James' hand wrapped around hers, with their laughter mingling with hers, Lily forgot that there was a war. She didn't care she was head girl, she didn't care she barely knew them, she didn't care she hadn't done anything like this in years; she just enjoyed herself.

"I'm sure it's not legal to be up here," Lily giggled at one point, leaning far out over the city, twirling on the wall at the edge. The winter wind whipped her hair around her face, and she smoothed it down hastily, looking back at the boys with a grin.

James was watching her, laughing. Sirius was playing cards with Peter (Lily was almost certain they were stolen from the cafe they had stopped in at a few hours ago) and Remus was lining up shots (very uncharacteristically).

"Legal shmegal," Sirius called over, without looking up from his deck. Peter's tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth, concentration lining him though Lily could see from her position that he had a strong hand.

"Bit close to the edge there, aren't you?" James pointed out, laughing, but with concern. He inched closer to her, one hand ready and waiting to catch her and the other stuck in his pocket.

That was something else Lily had not expected: she had seen them out of robes before – on the Platform at the beginning of the year, when everyone wore Muggle attire so as not to be too conspicuous – but she had not thought they wore such clothing during their own time. They didn't at school, anyway; people just wore the Wizarding fashions. But no, here they were, decked in jeans and t-shirts, imagery of The Who splashed across their chests and their arms draped in loose leather jackets. James had a new glasses frame, too, Lily had noticed.

"Would you catch me?" Lily asked him now, solemnly. She dipped one leg over the precipice with more courage than she felt (it was almost a foreshadowing of the awaiting alcohol). "Would you save me, if I fell?"

James rolled his eyes, "Of course I would. Try, anyway. But would you _please_ stop doing that?"

Lily laughed, and hopped off the ledge, "Making you nervous?" She teased.

"Such a mother hen," Sirius clucked.

James turned away, a half smile coating his face in exasperation, "You guys are stupid."

Sirius winked at Lily.

"No more fighting," Remus commanded. "Come and drink."

It was a Monday afternoon. That far south, there was only a slight coating of snow, and it was all but gone. There were five teenagers, on the roof of a block of flats, somewhere towards the edge of the city centre.

It was not how Lily had imagined a day with the Marauders would be like. She had thought they would go somewhere, that they would do something. She could have guessed that drink would appear, but she thought Remus would decline, rather than instigate.

"Why does Remus have the alcohol?" Lily whispered to James, as they joined the others in a loose circle on the floor.

He smirked at her incredulous tone, "Sirius and I drink too much, and Peter lets us," he ticked their names off on his fingers.

Lily snorted, and reached for a glass.

Sirius batted her hand away, "Rude."

Lily's mouth fell open a little, staring at the most aristocratic of their motley group in astonishment. Sirius Black, calling someone rude. Sirius Black, King of the Rude, calling someone rude.

"What game are we playing?" Peter questioned enthusiastically, warding off another confrontation quite by accident. He clapped his hands together.

"Strip poker," Sirius suggested, waggling his stack of cards around nearly as much as his eyebrows.

"Would you rather?" Peter put forwards.

Lily rolled her eyes, and James vetoed it ("_Really_? I thought we were over that game before it began?") at the same time.

"Strip blackjack?" Sirius tried again.

"Never have I ever?" Remus thought aloud, but his face was screwing up even as he said it.

"Strip happy families?" Sirius asked.

"Be_have_," James directed sternly, pinching his friend on the soft flesh under his arm. Sirius yelped slightly, sending James an injured look that the hurt did not warrant.

"Spin the bottle?" Sirius finished, finally, jumping straight back in on the defensive in return to all of their sighs, "What? Everyone's clothes stay on, it's a lose, lose situation, which is what you all seem to want!"

"Truth or dare!" Peter piped.

No one complained ("Strip-" Sirius began, but shut up almost immediately as James' fingers reached for his skin again).

Lily shrugged, "I'm game."

Remus laughed loudly, his lips pulled wide in an appreciative grin. Everyone gave him identical weird looks, and he explained: "She made a joke. A pun. She's 'game', and we're playing a game...?" They looked at him blankly, and Remus waved them away, turning to Lily, "It's nice to have some sophisticated humour around here," he tilted his head at her in acknowledgement.

Lily puffed herself up, "Well, I try." She accepted the compliment.

She could almost feel James pulling a face at Sirius at her side.

"Who wants to begin?" Sirius took charge, evidently bored of the conversation.

Peter's hand punched the air.

Chuckling, "So not Pete then," James teased. The plump boy blushed, but said nothing; and they waved him forward.

Peter's eyes caressed them carefully, taking them each in individually and then skipping past as though they were inadequate. Lily breathed a discreet sigh of relief when he did so with her anway.

Peter grinned, and Remus groaned, "Remus! Truth or dare!"

The slightly chapped looking boy considered his options – he took long looks at James and Sirius, who were whispering in conference (planning dares, Lily assumed) and at Lily (who was the one he presumably didn't want knowing all his secrets). – "Truth."

"Boo!" James cheered.

"Pussy!" Sirius cat called, pumping his fist in the air, "Banned from the club!"

Remus just looked at Peter, who looked between the others first. Again, his eyes lingered on Lily speculatively. They all waited.

"Ask him what he thinks of Ellie," James said, smirking cruelly at his friend. Remus shot him daggers.

"Ask him when he first got laid," Sirius suggested, mimicking the expression. "Oh, wait, never."

"Ask him his most embarrassing memory."

"Ask him his second deepest secret."

"Ask him-"

"_I_," Remus cut in serenely, "was under the impression that this was Peter's question, and not yours?" He raised his dark eyebrows at the duo.

James fixed a look of sympathy on his face, that didn't work very well due to the laughing, "That's sad."

"I think he's being funny," Sirius confided in a loud whisper.

"Ask a question, Peter," Lily laughed, turning from the ring leaders mostly with amusement.

"Remus Lupin...what do you think of Ellie?" Peter asked, turning to James to receive the clap of appreciation that he was waiting for. James clapped him on the shoulder.

Remus glared, "Really, that's the question?"

"What do you think of Ellie?" Sirius urged.

"We all heard him, loud and clear."

"Ellie Kelley?" Lily clarified, and they all nodded to her.

Remus folded his arms in frustration, "Well you've all made up your minds anyway, haven't you?" He huffed. Pink tinged the tops of his cheeks, and his ears, and his eyes were downcast and Lily just wanted to grip his cheeks between her fingers and squeeze because Remus-with-a-crush was so damn adorable!

"Tell us about Ellie!" James whinged.

"Fine!" Remus caved in. "Ellie is...very admirable, in my opinion. She takes excellent subjects. She is a good conversationist."

"Yes, but what do you think of her boobs?" Sirius joked.

"Was that the question?" Remus asked snidely. "No," he answered himself, "it wasn't. So I won't be commenting on her...figure, if you don't mind."

"I do mind," James sighed wearily. "Give the poor lad alcohol."

With a laugh, Remus handed out the shot glassed, and the four boys threw their heads back and swallowed. Lily blinked a little, watching them all cough, wincing a little, eyes screwed up, and felt her own small glass in her fingers.

"Drink, Lily," James wheezed.

"Drink, drink, drink," Sirius chanted.

Lily eased a long-suffering sigh, tilting her head back and tipping the liquid down her throat. It burned where it touched, and she coughed violently, eyes streaming.

"What _is_ that?" She gasped.

James patted her back, "Unnamed. Sirius' concoction."

"Is it _safe_?"

"Hasn't killed anyone yet."

Lily chuckled at the rubbish reassurance, but her nerves were beginning to calm down, and she felt marginally better. In fact, the after taste was quite nice.

"Remus' go, though he doesn't deserve it," Sirius continued the game, refilling the shot glasses.

"James," Remus directed the question instantly, eyes narrowed.

James beamed in return, "Darling?"

"Truth or dare?"

The Quidditch Captain scoffed, "Dare."

There was something almost unreasonably vindictive about Remus' expression. He must, Lily reasoned, either really like this Ellie girl, or just be actually evil on the inside. She hoped he liked the girl, and not only because she would rather James made it to the end of the month. She wanted Remus to be happy. She hoped that Ellie liked him.

"I dare you to drink this," Remus handed over a vial of the liquid. James pulled a face, raising the glass to his face. "Ah, ah, ah," Remus halted the boy with another smile, "I dare you to drink it...out of Peter's belly button."

James' face curled into disgust, as Lily burst into laughter.

"Don't _I_ get a say?" Peter complained in a shrill tone, though he didn't look all that upset.

Sirius cackled evilly, "Take your top off already!"

Peter shrugged out of the item of clothing, tucking his arms in tight for protection against the frigid winter air. His breath was visible ahead of him, and he looked nervous.

James hadn't moved.

"Drink, drink, drink," Lily mocked the earlier chant, clapping her fingers together. Sirius joined in, and their voices swelled together.

James flung up the arm not holding the drink in a gesture of surrender, and made a motion for Peter to lie down. He did so, wriggling against the frozen concrete.

James upended the drink, until it began to run down Peter's pale sides.

"Hurry!" Peter moaned.

"Ooh, sexual," Sirius muttered in Lily's ear, and she laughed as she watched.

"You're clean, right?" James assured himself. "I won't catch anything?"

"Hurry!" Peter said again.

"It's going to freeze if-" Remus began to warn.

He was cut off abruptly, as James dropped his head, his lips resting briefly on the other boy's stomach as Peter stiffened, suctioning up the alcohol as quickly as possible.

He jerked back to an upright position, and Peter was scrabbling for his clothes, jerking back into them with rough movements as James licked a drop off his chin.

Sirius cheered.

"Tasty," James commented, shuddering a little. Remus snorted, looking satisfied with himself.

"Everyone drink!" Sirius flicked his wand, and their drinks flew to their hands, and this time, Lily upended hers along with everyone else, in tandem.

"Sirius, truth or dare?" James asked, turning to the boy on the other side of Lily.

Sirius pulled a face.

"Dare."

* * *

The street was quiet.

The houses were dimly lit, behind tasteful flowery curtains; the soft glow of the porch-lights still there, but the majority of the rooms within dark, and the doors locked.

A cat ran across the road, down the little alley that ran between the park and the closest house, and that was silent, too. The cars were still, and the silhouette's that drifted barely discernible inside were quiet.

On the corner – the one in the park, furthest from the streetlights and hidden anyway by the lumbering trunks of the trees by the edge – a boy and a girl appeared. His arms were wrapped around her waist, her face turned into his chest, and they both held their breaths a tentative moment – just in case they were caught.

But it was empty, apart from them.

"Nice park," James whispered, unwinding from around Lily and taking a step backwards for safety. He smiled at her in the dim light, but she couldn't really tell.

"I spent most of my childhood here," Lily smiled nostalgically, looking towards the familiar swing set, the see-saw, the little alcove of bushes that she and Snape had become blood siblings in. The memories were bitter sweet now, of course; but still sweet.

James stepped further into the light, "Little Lily Evans," he teased. "You were so enthusiastic; so happy!"

Lily snorted, "I don't think _you _can call anyone enthusiastic. Remember you in first year – running around everywhere, talking to everyone you passed, joining every club. And then you got boring," she followed him out of the line of trees, nudging him as she passed.

"Such a loser," James sighed. "I make fun of those people now..."

Lily rolled her eyes, "Because it isn't cool," she dragged out her 'o's, dropping her eyelids and leaning backwards in the impersonation of a druggie. Her fingers raised to her lips as though she were smoking, and her eyes were entirely teasing as they grabbed his.

James blushed a little, "Exactly."

"What happened to you, anyway? Why the grow up?" Lily enquired, sinking down – having abandoned her ridiculous pose – to sit on one of the swings. She let her head loll to one side, lulled into a sense of security both by James' presence and the alcohol that they had drunk earlier in the day.

James walked around behind her, his footsteps slow in the evening, and rested his hands on her shoulders, "Doesn't everyone grow up?"

"Not as fast as you did," Lily breathed quietly, her mind hovering away from the topic and closer to the feel of his fingers massaging the nape of her neck. "I was still a cheerful little kid, and you came back all dour and cynical and judging and _mean_."

James didn't reply for a long time, and she didn't really care because she was a little drunk and he was _really_ good with his hands; and then she had thought that thought, and she was blushing because she really had to stop making everything about him so...well, sexual. It made her feel desperate, and she wasn't. She wore the trousers in this not-even-a-relationship-so-she-should-stop-stressing-about-it-thing.

"Guess I just saw the world for what it was," he said finally, and his hands stilled.

Lily twisted around to stare up at him, and he looked straight over her head thoughtfully, "That sounds ominous."

James, blinking a little, looked down at her, "It was nothing. I was just a very sheltered eleven year old," he smiled reassuringly, but she knew him well enough to know he was lying.

She just also knew that if he was lying, she shouldn't press the matter, and she let it drop.

"So, tell me something I don't already know about you," James started forcefully, sliding onto the seat beside her and folding one ankle onto the other leg as he swivelled to watch her talk. His face was lit by the street lamps.

Lily began to plait her hair, "I'm not all that interesting," she reminded him.

James blinked, "You're ginger, you're Muggle-born and you actually _like_ people – you're pretty much the most unique person I know."

Lily laughed, "I thought we were meant to be not isolating Muggleborns? Isn't that what your war is about?"

"Our war," James said mildly. "And I didn't say anything about you being inferior, did I? I just said that it was rare, and implied I would like to know more about that."

"About me."

..."Yes, about you."

Lily smiled, "I had a huge crush on Remus for years."

James stared at her.

Lily chuckled.

James continued to stare at her. His jaw moved as though he was going to speak, his eyes slid closed as he tried to understand, his teeth bit into his lower lip as he decided.

"_Remus_?" He asked finally. "_My_ Remus?"

Lily swatted his hand, and he grabbed hold of her hand as though he needed support: his face was a strange hybrid of confused and amazed and amused and revolted.

"You don't think Remus is handsome?" Lily teased easily, beaming, "With all that ruggedness contrasting his quiet behaviour; all that mystery; those incredible eyes."

James rolled his own eyes, "My eyes are incredible," he muttered sullenly, but he was beginning to grin now – over the surprise, he could appreciate how _gold_ the gossip was.

"Super-duper incredible," Lily assured distractedly, "but Remus' are far more unusual. And he's so...quiet. And rugged. Did I mention rugged?"

"Did I mention rugged?" James mimicked. He pulled her hand closer to him in supplication, "If you were going to fancy any of us for our looks, why not Sirius?"

Lily thought about it briefly, "He's just so polished, isn't he? So aristocratic. Not rugged at all. He's just...elegant; gorgeous, but smooth..." She shrugged, glancing up cheekily, "And also if I was with Sirius I would be the ugly one of the two, and I didn't like that."

James roared with laughter, much to Lily's embarrassment. She flung her hand over his mouth, looking around with worry at the darkened houses around them. Somewhere, a dog started barking, and she hissed quiet remonstrations to the laughing boy until she felt his tears run over her hand and she had to laugh herself.

She wiped them off on his t-shirt.

"Sirius will _love_ that!" James gasped at last, regaining his composure and his breath but losing none of the absurd brilliance from his eyes.

"You can't tell him!" Lily groaned, aware before she said anything that it would make no difference. "He'll mock me forever!"

James sent her a look full of affection, "Lily, you _need_ mocking forever for that."

Lily looked exactly the same back, "Remus will defend me."

"Rugged Remus," James agreed with an amused shake of his head. His hair flopped all over the place, drawing Lily's attention.

Before she quite knew what she was doing, she was on her feet, her body between his legs and her fingers wound into his black hair. She tugged his head backwards, so that it was craned upwards to look at her, and she worked her hands over his scalp, testing through the locks and scraping across the sensitive skin in such a way that his eyes slipped closed in pleasure, and his breath came out slowly.

From the way he always played with it – though, she gave him credit where it was due, that had greatly reduced recently – she would have imagined that it was softer. It wasn't_ rough_, it just was normal hair, and she was a little disappointed because this wasn't the first time she's wanted to play with it.

She tried to smooth it down, and with complete authority it sprang back to the original position.

James opened his eyes to smile at her lazily, "I told you there was no taming this wild beast."

Lily petted his head, holding his gaze, "You're like a barbarian."

"Animal."

"Cave man."

"Anti-Sirius."

Lily laughed, and removed herself from James to sit back down, swinging forwards and backwards gently. After a moment, she told him – though he hadn't asked this time – something new:

"I learnt I was magical on this swing set."

When she looked up, James was watching her. His eyes had the effect of making her feel stronger, and also making her feel like her stomach had dissolved.

She continued, "I could always just...I always...I always felt like I was flying. I was just so _light_, you know? And at first it was just loads of fun, and then I began to notice other people didn't do it quite like me. And my mother...she told me to stop, in case other people noticed. She wasn't ashamed but...well, not everyone understands unusual people, do they?" She smiled sadly. "And then Sev showed up, right there" – she pointed loosely to the bushes in the corner, over near the edge of the wood – "and explained, and everything started to make sense."

James took her hand, squeezing it softly, and together they watched the forest for a moment; just in case.

"He gave me and entire world," Lily finished, "but I lost my sister. And he never really understood why that upset me so much. Because she was a Muggle." Her eyes closed, and the pressure of James' fingers tightened.

He cleared his throat, speaking quietly so as not to detract, or break, the fragile atmosphere, "I never had any siblings. I grew up knowing about magic – what to expect, what not to expect. In that way, I guess I'm the complete opposite of you. And, when we entered Hogwarts...you got your magic, and I got my brothers; but you had to lose your sister too, and I didn't lose anything and that wasn't fair."

Lily looked at him, her eyes empty of tears but fixed with raw desperation on him.

"I would do absolutely anything for my boys," James admitted with a bark like laugh reminiscent of Sirius'. "There aren't any boundaries I would cross to help Sirius. The other two...I love them like brothers, but Sirius is just kind of...a higher tier, if you get my meaning. If it was a choice between – Merlin, this sounds terrible – their lives and his, I would choose his. And we all know that, there's no point denying it. He would choose mine, too; over everything in the world, he would choose mine."

This time, it was Lily's turn to squeeze James' hand; she could feel it – there was a tension in his shoulders, a desolate look in his eyes – that there was something far less touching on the way.

"I didn't lose anything straight away, not automatically; like you did. But...Sirius is...well..."

"You don't have to tell me," Lily promised him, "I understand."

But James was shaking his head, "I _do_ have to tell you, Lily; I _do_, because I want you to know me. And...you're going to need to know him, too. Because he is _such _ a big part of who I am..."

Lily said nothing, letting him continue with his story.

"You asked me what made me so cynical?" James reminded her, more determined; his words came thicker and faster and stronger. "The summer after we left, after first year, Sirius showed up at my house a few days into the holidays. He was..." Again, James trailed off, apparently able to continue.

He didn't need to – Lily could guess. Guess from the expression on James' face, and Sirius and his brother's relationship, and the rumour that occasionally flew around, and the Howler's that used to appear like clockwork.

She felt sick.

"They...?" She could phrase it no better than him, but she _had _ to ask, in a horrible, sadistic way what she was scared of had to be answered.

James looked up at her with hollow eyes, "It was worse than I could have imagined. And _magic_ did that. Fucking _magic_, and _parents_ – _what kind of parents do that to their child_?" He was shaking his head emphatically, mouth pulled down at the corners.

With the instinct of comfort all people are born with, Lily wrapped her arms tenderly around his shaking shoulders.

"It kept getting worse," James whispered into her neck. "Every year, it would be worse. Until eventually..."

"He came to live with you," Lily finished. She didn't know if that's where he was going, but she personally could bear no more details; and she doubted he could. "You saved him."

James breathed the smell of her in, without saying a word.

"And you saved Snape," Lily pointed out, pulling away to take his face in her hands. "The person you love the most in the world, and one of the people you hate the most in the world. You're a good person, James Potter."

James smiled weakly at her, "Not much fun company right now, though; am I?" He attempted his trademark humour.

Lily pulled up her lips, "You have your moments."

"Just not as much as Rugged Remus."

Lily laughed properly, "No, not that much."

James clambered to his feet, and she stepped away to give him room. The Gryffindor Chaser, emotionally worn out and with his heart on the line, offered his hand; and she took it.

"I'll walk you home," he promised, tugging her closer.

The duo meandered through the lonely streets with the smaller of the pair pointing out various landmarks en route. The tree they made their ships nest in when she was seven; the little track she learnt to ride a bike on ("What's a bike?" asked James); the neighbour who had cancer and the neighbour who was obscenely racist and the neighbour who she thought was a spy.

For the most part, James was content to listen and laugh.

The differences between them had never seemed so plain – her life was surrounded by family and friends and comfort, and he had spent his alone and in luxury. And they had both been happy.

This James voiced as he thought of it: "Happiness can't be all that hard." He mused, pulling them both to a stop as he thought through it. "I'm happy, you're happy, Peter and Remus are happy," and we all came from completely different backgrounds."

Lily twisted out of his arms to walk ahead, swinging her hips from side to side flirtily, "Why, Mr Potter, that almost didn't sound cynical!"

James chuckled, "I guess you're rubbing off on me." He winked at her, and followed.

Lily eventually stopped beneath an old red brick building, standing slightly apart from the others. It was almost factory-like in style – big and square and with towering chimneys – but also had a refined elegance in the large, measured windows, and the steps up to the front door – painted sky blue.

"This is me," she shrugged, looking over her shoulder so as to not seem too keen for his reaction.

James surveyed the building carefully.

He couldn't imagine her in it. He couldn't picture her reading in a room, or playing in the small garden as a child, or opening the door to greet Marlene or Mary or...well, not Hayley, actually.

"It's very red," he said finally.

Lily laughed, "It's horrible, isn't it? I've never liked it – we moved here a few years ago and I wanted to move into the old Georgian building over there," she gestured somewhere over her shoulder.

James breathed a discernible sigh of relief, "It's not that bad," he said generously, now that he was out of the danger zone, "it's just not very you, is it?"

Lily shook her head affectionately, taking hold of one of the cast iron railings and leaning against it with a strange look on her face.

"What?" James asked, and his heart beat faster.

Lily bit her lip.

"James Potter," a voice commanded from inside James' jacket.

Lily froze in surprise. Surely – _surely_ – that could not actually be...Sirius...inside James' leather? Well, he didn't fit for one...

James, swearing a little and blushing, yanked the mirror out from somewhere, holding it up to the light to see Sirius' face beaming at him. His pupils were blown wide open, and the smile was more dopey than aware, but he looked happy so it couldn't all be bad.

"Lemons says you have to come home before you don't make an honest woman out of her," Sirius slurred. "I promised I'd pass on th-"

"Bye, Sirius!" James called, hastily hiding the equipment, his cheeks flushed even further.

Lily pretended she hadn't heard.

"I'd better..." James gestured over his shoulder awkwardly, his other hand coming to his hair in a rough movement.

"Yeah," Lily nodded, too enthusiastic to seem natural. Her hand fell from the bar, and she didn't know what she was supposed to do.

She _wanted_ to kiss him.

"I'll just..." James tried again, but did not rip his eyes from her.

"Yeah," Lily agreed, much quieter.

"So I'll..."

"Yeah."

The light flickered on above them, and a blind flew open. The face of an older woman, auburn hair scraped back in a bun and the neckline of a nightdress clearly visible as she leant through the opened window, appeared.

"Oh, _God_," Lily whispered in supplication, but it was too late.

"Hello, love," Mrs Evans greeted cheerfully. "You should come in now."

"Yes!" Lily nearly shouted, tripping up the stairs towards the door with desperation, shooting an apologetic, horrified look at James, who seemed to find the situation rather funny.

"Hello, Mrs Evans?" He greeted the Muggle woman smoothly. He raised one hand to wave at her, his face creasing into the signature lopsided grin that Lily knew swung opinions all over.

Her mother's, too, it seemed: Mrs Evans – who strongly believed that boys were after one thing and one thing only – blushed, and waved back, "Hello...?"

"James," he filled in helpfully. "James Potter."

The woman's eyebrows shot up her forehead eagerly, "Oh, _you're_ James Potter!" She rested her elbows on the sill, turning briefly – presumably to reply to something her sleeping husband muttered – and the returned to talk to the young man below her.

"What's she told you?" James asked, looking at Lily with an expression so tender that her heart beat slower and her words nearly caught in her throat.

Nearly. Not entirely.

"Okay, James didn't you have to go and...do that thing?" She suggested, giving him a gentle shove in the direction of the park. "Remember? With Sirius?"

"Goodnight, Mrs Evans!" James bowed to the pressure, waving off his new friend as easily as he'd made them, and turning his attention to the redhead by his side. "Goodnight, Lily."

Lily – and her mother was watching and Oh God this was mortifying – blushed, dropping her face but unable to not look at him for long, "Goodnight, James."

He didn't touch her; not a kiss, not a hug. But she felt his presence around her even as – twenty minutes later (taken mostly by her mother's strictures) – she got into bed and tried to sleep.

* * *

**Very Jily oriented - finally getting to what this story's supposed to be about, I suppose ;) But I hope that was all okay, the other regulars should crop up again soon enough. Of course, everyone has different ideas about what they think a random Marauder day would be like, so if yo****u think I'm completely wrong or you'd prefer me to add something in, include it in a review.**

**The next chapter will most likely be out next weekend, but if it's not it'll be the week after that. I promise :)**

**Hope you liked it, as always - thank you for reading, please review!**

**~Meli**


	20. New Years Eve, 1978

**Okay, folks here's the deal: I'm going on holiday next Sunday, so I'm going to do my best to get the next chapter (the one after this one, which is here, obviously) up and written and stuff by then, because it's a pretty hefty one and it'll have a good cliffhanger and whatnot. But that might not happen, because life gets in the way and all that.**

**But, either way, wish me luck!**

* * *

Peter was very nearly late for the feast.

It was bloody ridiculous, if you asked him, he thought as he moved quickly and loudly through the deserted corridors, listening to the vague noises of people in the hall and drinking in the smells that came – oxymoronic – from the other direction, where the kitchens were. _He_ had been the first there, so why should it be him that went to fetch the map from the dormitories.

It was Remus who left it there, it was Sirius who wanted it and it was James who had been the last to arrive, and therefore on his feet when they noticed their lack of equipment. And yet it was Peter – the slowest of the lot and the one who often forgot where the shortcuts started – who had to get up, giving up his precious seat near where the turkey would appear – to get it. By some divine right of being the only one doing what he was supposed to.

Ridiculous.

But whatever, there was no point complaining about it, he grumbled internally. He was there now anyway.

Sneaking in through the open double doors, Peter spared Dumbledore – at his golden podium and booming some sort of inspirational nonsense at them all – barely a glance as he scurried down the back and then down the far aisle.

"I have it," he hissed, crouching awkwardly behind James and Sirius' backs. Some fourth years gave him dirty looks (apparently some people listened to what the old headmaster said) but his two friends swivelled immediately, faces lit up with pride.

Well, kind of.

"That's cool mate, pipe down, yeah?" James mumbled, eyes fixed on Dumbledore and a slight frown gracing his face.

"Give it over and shhh," Sirius responded at the same time, gesturing quickly and looking around furtively – both to check no one was watching the passing of the map, and to pay more attention to what was going on.

Remus smiled at Peter briefly, but otherwise ignored the exchange.

To be fair, what Dumbledore was saying was probably very interesting, wasn't it?

Peter squeezed into the space between Sirius and Mary, both of whom looked a little disgruntled at the intrusion, and again James made noises to encourage them all to be quiet.

Peter never received the chance, really, to know what Dumbledore was saying that had them all riveted, but he did manage to hear his favourite words of every welcoming speech the old man gave: "Eat." And, with a solemn raise of his arms, food swelled on the plates magically, and Peter dove in.

"It's good to see you, Mary," he could hear Sirius saying above his head, and the brunette on his right replied cheerfully, but he paid little attention.

In fact, he had barely noticed that it _was_ Mary, but now that he thought of it he could feel the warmth of her slim thigh close to his own, and her hand brushed his arm as she reached for the pumpkin juice, and he liked that.

"Hi Mary," Peter's voice jumped nervously, a slight laugh throwing it a little too high to seem casual, his smile a little too wide to be considered friendly.

Mary blinked, a little shocked by his very speedy abandoning of his food to talk to her so urgently, "Hi there, Peter." She gave Hayley, sitting opposite her, a confused look, and the much smaller girl was laughing when Peter looked over.

"Do I get a greeting too, Peter, or is it only lovely Mary who does," she asked, silky sweet and with casual vindictiveness in her eyes.

Peter's heart stuttered, blood rushed to his face and – after a pause that could not be ignored – he proceeded to turn away from the amused girls and face Marlene instead.

The blonde girl looked much more sympathetic to Peter's plight, and with the candles flickering high above, turning the locks to golden and shimmering, and catching in her baby blue eyes, she wasn't a bad option herself. But she was taken, unfortunately, by Will – Peter gave him a look, and he smiled back awkwardly, pretending he hadn't just witnessed the little scene.

That said, Mary was taken too, – still? – but Peter was pretty certain that he could take Reginald Bloody Cattermole if it came down to it. He just didn't think that Mary, or his friends, would be that impressed.

"How were your holidays, Peter?" Marlene asked him, as she helped herself to a generous helping of roast potatoes.

Peter shrugged, "Pretty good. We all stayed at school, and we didn't really do much, but...you know..." He shrugged, not sure how to explain.

Marlene understood though, "Every day's good when you're with friends," she assured him.

Sirius snorted, and then covered it with a cough.

Peter blushed.

"So you didn't go out at all?" Marlene – bless her – attempted to distract him from this new humiliation.

Peter shook his head, "Only to Hogsmeade a few times. And once to Diagon Alley, with Lily."

Marlene's eyebrows shot up, but it was Will that spoke, in low tones of incredulity, "_You_ went out with Lily?"

Peter nodded, a little confused.

Sirius cut in, "We _all _went out with Lily. It was a group thing, not just those two," he explained to the confused duo. Both sets of shoulders, both sets of eyebrows, sagged. "It wasn't a date."

"Oh," Peter attempted to salvage his pride, accidentally lost, "no, it wasn't a date, I didn't mean that."

"I didn't think it sounded right," Will chuckled.

Marlene smirked.

"Well," Sirius reasoned, "can _you_ imagine Lily going for Peter?" He raised his eyebrows pointedly, and this time Marlene joined in the hushed laughter, too.

As a block they looked over at the ginger, chatting enthusiastically to James – who she sat opposite – and completely oblivious to their discussion. Peter, with his head ducked and burning, missed when they looked, too, to James, and assumed they were mocking his not-as-good-as-Lily-looks.

Lily was gorgeous, of course, and he wasn't; but there was no need to be obvious about it, was there? Whatever, they probably had a reason.

"What did you get up to in London?" Hayley inputted, apparently as irritated as Peter by the irrelevant gossip. "Did you tell Lily that I was invited but couldn't come?"

Sirius looked at her pointedly, "And how was _Kingsley_?"

Marlene and Will looked between the two in confusion, Peter didn't even bother, and Mary, vaguely clued in, looked nervous.

Hayley didn't colour, but she looked abashed despite her resolutions to never be ashamed of herself, "He's great. Really...I really like him."

Marlene filled the awkward pause, "Look at you, talking about feelings! Why the change of heart?"

Will was the only one who laughed at the pun.

Hayley shrugged, "And how were your holidays, Marlene? Sleep with any more Blacks?"

.

The silence that followed wasn't awkward.

It was easy.

It wasn't filled with the electricity of the moment.

And her words didn't hang in it, between the now fully silent group (even James and Lily had heard that one, and were also in shocked silence). They had been sucked straight in by Will, who looked like he wasn't sure if he'd been punched in the face.

"Hayley!" James reprimanded finally, a hiss between the members until it reached the angry looking girl.

"What did she mean?" Will turned to Marlene, before Hayley could defend herself. His face was so scrunched that his glassed were digging in a little, his pale, freckled cheeks had gone even paler. He let go of her hand to wipe his hair from his forehead, mouth pinched down at the corners. "Which blacks have you slept with?"

Marlene opened her mouth hopelessly and, because it was inevitable, with him sitting diagonal, her eyes slid, ever so briefly to Sirius.

Tiny as it was, Will caught the movement, and followed her look to the boy opposite, who _definitely _looked like he'd been punched in the face.

"Oh," Will said quietly, "it's not a black you've slept with, it's a _Black_." His face tightened with hurt.

"Look mate," Sirius began quietly, but James silenced him just as Marlene began to speak.

"_Will_," she begged, seizing hold of his arm desperately, "we didn't sleep together."

The couple – the couple who had already battled through so much together – locked eyes. The tension flickered outside of the group; Reginald – looking over at Mary – had noticed, as had the fourth years, as had Dumbledore.

"Okay," Will said, turning away, back to his plate.

Marlene looked around, but found no answers, "Okay?"

"Okay." Will repeated, glancing back at her with a slight smile. "If you say you didn't, I believe you."

Marlene swallowed, "You forgive me?"

Will rolled his eyes, "There's nothing to forgive. _Him_" – he gestured to Sirius with a snide sniff – "Him I'm going to poison his food, but I could never blame you anything. I _love_ you!"

Marlene flung her arms around his neck – accidentally hitting Lily in the side of the face – and squeezed her face into his neck. She mumbled something that might have been a promise of love, but they couldn't really hear.

"Is now the wrong time to tell him that she slept with you, too?" Lily turned to James teasingly.

Will snorted, with his hair buried inside his girlfriend's hair.

"Is now the wrong time to tell him she slept with _you_?" James muttered back, acting abashed. He dipped two slender fingers into his glass, and flicked the water up into her face. Lily laughed.

"Don't give me ideas," Will giggled, pulling away from Marlene. Marlene rolled her eyes.

Sirius looked dumbfounded, "William Selwyn, are you being..._kinky_."

Will pulled a face.

Later, the meal vanished and the younger students gone, there was more room to lounge around.

Remus had left, gone to see McGonagall to discuss something or other; James had gone over the top of the table, and was sitting upon it with his legs on the opposite bench; Lily leant against his shins, and Mary sat by Lily's feet, with Reginald on the Hufflepuff bench opposite; Marlene and Will had vanished discreetly (and because of this, the three Marauders remaining weren't very eager to head back up to the dormitories); Hayley had slid away to talk to Kelt about Quidditch, and Sirius had come around the side to sit on the floor beneath James' feet. Peter hadn't moved, except closer to the mashed potato.

"What did you do in the holidays, then, Reginald?" Lily asked the shy boy gently, well aware that often it was easier to answer the girls' questions than the Marauders' (understandably, if you were a weedy Hufflepuff who had more than once been on the end of Sirius and James' cruelty).

Mary touched his hand, coaxing words out of him with the confidence she gave.

"Good, thank you," Reginald nodded solemnly. "I spent most of it with my grandparents in Wales."

"Sounds like a ball," James commented easily; partly sarcastically but mostly affectionately (though it took someone who knew him well to understand the difference).

Sirius nudged him, reproaching, "Just because your parents were your grandparents too!"

Lily chuckled, and James jerked his knees to dislodge her, causing her to nearly collapse on Sirius, who allowed her to hang (his face a picture of innocent ignorance) for a moment before helping her back onto her pedestal.

"Just because _your_ mum likes to chat with strangers out of her window at night," he muttered, a little smirk playing at the corner of his mouth as he looked down into her indignant eyes.

For a second, it seemed like something might happen, with the two heads peering at each other serenely, matching expressions of deep affection on their faces and their bodies gently inclined towards one another, but the moment wasn't right, and James turned away first with a sad shake of his head.

Lily's eyes followed the movement, tracing his features.

"How was the weather in Wales?" Peter broke the silence with a meaningless question (entirely for the purpose of breaking the silence, which was something he had never been entirely comfortable in).

Reginald fixed the boy with his eyes, and answered with unnecessary and apparently unprovoked hostility, "Fine."

Everyone looked at him and, upon the realisation, he blushed and turned to Mary, "Shall I walk you back to Gryffindor?"

Mary acquiesced, with no little curiosity to her boyfriend's strange actions, and the two headed off (she took his hand and he, blushingly, held hers back, to Sirius' catcalls) towards the far doorway.

"What was _that_?" Sirius asked, turning first to James – who knew nothing – and then to Lily, given that Remus wasn't there.

Lily shrugged, opening her mouth to talk, but Peter beat her to it: "Do you think I could take him?" He mused, looking down the corridor between the tables to where the two had left.

James snorted, "I don't think you could take _her_."

Peter shot him a look, "What do you mean?"

"Well," James tried to explain, only a little more tactically, "if you tried to mess with her bloke I don't see her taking it lying down. She's the volatile one in that relationship isn't she?"

"And you don't think I could fight _her_? I'm stronger than she is!" Peter insisted, chubby face squeezed into anger.

James stared, "Mate...you shouldn't _want_ to fight her..."

Leaping to his feet, the smallest and least talented marauder turned away, stalking down, away from his friends and away from James' comments, leaving behind a slew of confused teens.

James turned to the pack: "Was I being unreasonable?"

Sirius, automatically, shook his head.

"I don't think he was really talking about fighting her," Lily said quietly, looking sadly after Peter. "And you were quite rude to him earlier."

James raised an eyebrow, "_When_?"

"When he went to get the map," Lily said sternly, pointedly, looking between the two best friends and lowering her voice slightly so that Hayley and Kelt – not talking any more, but just sitting silently and easily, watching the moon cross the sky – didn't hear.

James pulled a confused face.

Expanding: "He went all that way to do you a favour, and then you shushed him," Lily pointed out. "It was hardly fair!"

"He was interrupting Dumbledore's speech!" Sirius defended them.

"And it's not Peter's fault he wasn't around!"

"We were trying to listen!"

"He deserved better." Lily closed the argument with a huge sigh. She got to her feet, "You two are so ridiculously fantastic...just remember that some other people aren't, yeah?" She made a vague movement as if to touch James' face, and decided against it. "Goodnight," she bid instead, backing away with a smile and a small wave.

James watched her go, and Sirius watched James.

"You really do love her," the handsome boy commented quietly.

James smiled, "She's so bloody..."

"Argumentative, controlling, pushy?" Sirius offered, laughing. "Or are we going pretty, clever, funny, quirky?"

James shook his head, "She's so bloody _Lily_. She's unforgettable..."

Sirius rolled his eyes, "Well after her you go, then," he gestured to where James still watched.

The Quidditch player tore his eyes from the door, eyeing his best mate with worry, "Will you be ok?"

"Will I be alright?" Sirius scoffed, messing James' hair as he heaved himself to his feet. "You egotistical shit, of course I'll be alright!"

James laughed and, at a jog, set off after his girl.

Sirius, not one to dwell too much on loneliness, meandered over the remaining two in the hall.

"Kelt, Hayley," he greeted. "What is this rousing conversation you're having."

Hayley rolled her eyes, and Kelt looked back at him apathetically, "I'm going to bed." The brawny Quidditch player, who had shared a room with Sirius for years and yet had never really bonded with the boy, got down from the window sill he had been sitting upon and, with a nod to Hayley, moved off.

"Was it something I said?" Sirius mumbled dryly, taking the vacated position, "So what about you H-dog?" He commandeered James' nickname for the sarcastic girl, mocking.

Hayley gave him a dirty look, "Don't call me that."

"James calls you that..."

"You aren't James...and anyway, James doesn't really call me that anymore," Hayley pointed out, trying to keep the bitterness from her voice.

Sirius heard, obviously, "Why the tone?"

"What tone?"

"_That_ tone."

"There is no tone," Hayley rolled her eyes, increasingly frustrated.

Sirius knew it, too, "Of course there's a tone."

"Merlin's _sake_ Black!" The girl cried, finally, cracks shattering apart in her frigid veneer, "What do you want me to _say_? You _know_ why there's a tone!"

Sirius, triumphant, waited.

"What do you want me to say?" Hayley demanded again, "What are you trying to achieve?"

Sirius met her eyes, "I know what it's like to be head over heels in love with him, Hayley, that's what _I _want to say. Just because I'm straight doesn't mean I'm not in love with him, and just because he's in love with Lily, doesn't mean he doesn't love me, too. I realise it's a different situation to yours, because you...well... and I love him like a brother, but I just want you to know that he can't help it; and that you shouldn't be ashamed of your feelings."

Hayley gave him a scathing look, "You don't have a clue, Black. You're not being replaced."

"_You're_ not being replaced," Sirius replied, his voice low, "because he never loved you."

Hayley looked like she'd been punched in the face.

"Now," Sirius continued, "from what I can tell, Kingsley does. And I know him a little – he's a good bloke."

Hayley jerked away from him, face a picture of fury, "You have no right to meddle in my affairs. Who I like, and who I see, are none of your business. Back the hell off," she hissed, stalking away.

"My advice?" Sirius called, stilling her, "is to do whatever you can to get over James...and be good to Kingsley even if it's not the best thing for you."

Hayley continued walking.

* * *

By the time New Year's Eve rolled around the drama in the group had largely passed over; James – taking Lily's advice – had both apologised to Peter and taken pains to keep the pressure of excelling off his shoulders; Mary and Reginald continued their serene and adorable relationship; Will and Marlene were as utterly in love as ever.

Hayley glared at Sirius every time she saw him, and refused to have conversations with him, but that wasn't unusual enough to cause a stir.

For the first time in a long time, everything seemed...easy. There were no building tensions; there were no topics that needed avoiding.

"If only it would snow," Lily commented on the subject, on one of her 'rounds' with James, in the room of requirement, "everything would be perfect."

James, who was scrawling a letter to his mother, snorted, "How romantic."

"You don't like snow?" The redhead asked, curling her feet beneath herself as she watched his awkward inscription increase. She had always assumed that – given the obscene amount that he seemed to throw around every year – he loved it.

"I love it," James replied honestly, "but only when there's enough to have a good time."

"There's always enough to have a good time, around here," Lily pointed out, "we're in Scotland."

James laughed hoarsely, dryly amused, "Don't be so scathing about Scotland, you redhead, you."

"I'm not Scottish!" Lily defended herself, rolling an offending coloured lock around her finger with a snooty sniff. "My folks come from Ireland."

"Land of the gays."

"Land of the free!" Lily threw a pillow at him.

James, face lit by laughter, caught it and tucked it behind his head, "Oh, sure, whatever you say!"

"You and your Black are so judgemental," Lily grumbled. "Homophobes."

James rolled from his place to crouch at her feet, resting his cheek on her knee with the sweetest smile she had ever seen him give, "I'm not a homophobe. The gays and I have a mutual love for one another, promise."

Lily swatted him away, "You're impossible."

"That's not what they said," James quipped.

"What did they say?" Lily teased. "Oh, James, take your top off?"

James shook his head, "That was your mum."

Lily shoved him off her leg, laughing along despite herself, "You're _impossible_."

"You're repetitive!"

"You're a twat!"

"You're a prig!"

"You're an arrogant, immature tosser! Who _smells_!" Lily shot, pulling her final syllable out in faux irriation.

James laughed, "Evan's...you're _so_ weird!"

"But that's why you love me," Lily quipped, without thinking.

The word bounced off walls, ricocheting through their hearts as they tried not to make eye contact, not sure what to say and terrified that the other could hear their own increased heart rate. James' hoarse laughter may as well have been an answer, and Lily's blush was as much a giveaway as anything else.

"So what are you doing tonight?" James asked finally, because sometimes even he couldn't take the silences.

Lily, still red, shrugged silently, "One of the girls will have alcohol, I assume we'll share it and bitch about our lives and make promises to do better next year and stuff."

"Resolutions?"

Lily did have one, in fact; if you could call it that. It wasn't something she'd specified, something she'd planned. It was just that when people asked her...she thought about James. Nothing specific. Just...just him. He was her New Year's Resolution.

Of course, she could hardly tell him that.

"None, really. And you?"

James looked at her, "I vant to leaaaarn hhhow to chaahhchah."

Lily snorted, "Was that meant to be Russian?"

"Slovakian. Or Romanian, I'm not fussy."

"But definitely the cha-cha?"

James pulled a face, "Actually, I can already cha-cha. That's a skill my house elves taught me."

Lily laughed loudly, "You can_not_ cha-cha. That's such a lie!"

James made a motion of crossing his heart, and yanked her to her feet. In the corner, a turntable materialised, and a box of records, and James yanked her over, rifling through the disks quickly and selecting one without conferring with her.

"I am not dancing with you!" Lily giggled, covering her face, "there's no way!"

James didn't reply, setting the volume to loud and dragging her to the space at the side (she wasn't even sure if it had been there before). Roughly, he positioned her shaking body.

"Follow my lead," he instructed cheerfully, and clicked.

The music swelled around them, and James was moving, feet taking quick little steps and hips shifting rapidly to the beat, rolling her body with him, and she found herself moving automatically: awkwardly, half a beat behind him and completely out of step, but moving with him. Dancing with him.

She didn't care; she was laughing too hard, collapsing only a few seconds in against his chest in a fit of giggles; he held her there, his own body shaking, growling, with deep laughter that pulsed through her.

"You're shocking, Evans," he whispered into her ear.

"Who can still cha-cha these days!" Lily howled, head flying back to better laugh.

"Purebloods," Sirius commented, from where he leant against the door. "We're a weird bunch."

The Gryffindors in the centre of the room turned together, arms still wrapped around one another, to speak to the boy at the same time.

"Speak for yourself," James said.

"You're telling me!" Lily laughed.

James nudged her in the ribs, and released her, turning fully to face his best friend, "Eh, mate, what are we doing tonight?"

Sirius ambled over to the chairs, taking the armchair and sinking into it before leaning over the map speculatively, "Trying to get Will drunk?"

Lily laughed, "Don't be mean."

"Trying to get Reginald drunk?"

James perked up, "Is Reginald coming?"

"Going where?" Lily asked, looking between them.

Both boys ignored her.

"I think we should do what we did in fourth year," Sirius said, cryptically, wiggling a single eyebrow. James smirked, and gave a look that distinctly checked whether he could speak in front of Lily. Lily shot him a furious look; he proceeded anyway.

"But maybe without the...animal?"

Sirius nodded emphatically, "No, that didn't go too well, did it?"

"Remus' eyebrows just wouldn't grow back!"

"Never mind Peter's...hairy regions."

James snorted, and Lily took his momentary distraction to leap in: "What _are_ you two talking about?" She held up a hand before they could twist the conversation out of her control again, halting Sirius' sideways remark in its tracks, "Look, I don't want to know about 4th year, and the animal, and Remus' eyebrows; and I _definitely_ don't want to know about Peter's 'hairy regions' and what Remus' eyebrows must have been doing near them" (the boys laughed appreciatively) "for them _both_ to get singed off. Just tell me what we're doing tonight."

James ignored her (again), "So I'll see you there?" He asked Sirius, checking his watch and slinging his cloak over his shoulders.

Sirius saluted him as an answer, his handsome face crumpling joyously, hidden from the full light and his hair flopping sweetly into his eyes. Lily rolled her eyes at him.

Despite herself, her eyes followed the boy leaving the room (their room); when she looked back, Sirius watched her with a smirk.

"Shut up," she mumbled, turning red and reaching around him to fold up the map ("wipe it clean" Sirius ordered sternly, when she forgot, and she did so hurriedly) before resting with her hands on her hips, half defensive and all combative.

"So whose totes got a crush?" Sirius asked, his voice hitting falsetto as he hit the soft cushioned armchair that belonged to James.

She did not mind the invasion of space as much as she would have, were it anyone else, but she _did_ mind the mocking, and she sent him a dirty look. Not to cover her guilt. "_What_ are we doing tonight?"

"Who says you're invited?"

The red head pointed a threatening finger at the boy, "Just because I'm smaller than you, half your weight and have less testosterone, doesn't mean I couldn't kick your ass. Watch yourself."

Sirius raised his hands in supplication, and, forgiving him even though she knew he didn't mean it, she took a seat on the low sofa. The boy, after a few moments' relaxed silence, shuffled over to sit beside her, resting his head on her lap as he smiled serenely.

Lily looked at him accusingly, "What?"

"Nothing," Sirius promised sweetly, shaking his head and fixing her with his eyes, "I just thought I'd come over here to tell you that I know someone that has a crush on you, and if you break my boy's heart I'll break your face." He finished with the beaming grin that (she thought) meant he was joking.

He wasn't.

"No hearts are getting broken here," Lily promised, her own in her mouth. Hearts? _Hearts?_ It wasn't meant to be a matter of the heart, not yet! It was just a physical attraction, it would go away, wouldn't it?

"I'm serious!" Sirius swore easily, sensing her hesitation and misinterpreting it. "I have far less qualms than he does about fighting girls."

"I don't doubt it."

"Because you think he's perfect."

"I didn't say that!"

"And handsome."

"You're making things up!"

"And funny."

"Really, Black?"

"And you want to tap that boy," Sirius lengthened his vowels lewdly.

..."Black?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

The boy lounging across her laughed, and sat up – thankfully, for her legs were beginning to tingle with blood loss, and she wasn't entirely sure that she wouldn't need them to escape from the crazy person she was sharing the room with.

"Is James okay with this now?" Lily asked suddenly, as the thought occurred to her. "With me and you being alone in a room together?"

Sirius snorted, "He's getting over that particular paranoia, thank Merlin, because I couldn't tease you if he was here." Lily punched him lightly, and his face twitched without looking at her at her pathetic strength. "No, he's alright with it all, now; there's only a little bit of him now worrying we're going to elope together, and the next time he sees us there'll be a whole herd of little Black-Evans sproglets." He grinned at her.

Lily rolled her eyes, "Well we'll have to cancel that plan."

"Or be really quick about it," Sirius laughed loudly. Lily rolled her eyes.

With a sigh older than his age, and the pose of an old man that did nothing to change his natural born grace, Sirius staggered to his feet, wheezing a little. From above, he peered down at the lovely girl, and pouted dramatically, "Look, Evans, do you want to know what we're doing tonight or not?"

With her mouth hanging open slightly (she was never quite used to his blatant shamelessness) Lily followed the boy (he walked much faster than her, and didn't care to slow down) out of the room and down the corridor.

"Are you going to tell me now or is it-" Lily ran a little, skidding as she slowed down beside him, and ignoring his playful whistling.

"It's a surprise," Sirius confirmed with a sharp nod. "Consider tonight your initiation."

Lily smiled, touched although she pretended not to be, "I thought London was my initiation?"

Sirius pulled a mocking face, "London was a test, but tonight's when the fun begins," he turned his head to wink at her. "Watch yourself." He mimicked her earlier words.

Lily noticed, and scoffed loudly. As a new thought occurred to her: "So what about everyone else? Do they just get in automatically?"

With an almost horrified gasp, fake tears sparkling in his vivid grey eyes, Sirius allowed a fluttering hand to rest over his heart, "_Just get in automatically_? Why would you even say something like that?"

"Well-"

Apparently, it was a rhetorical question, because Sirius continued talking without regard for what Lily was trying to explain, "This is not some little childrens club, where you can pick and choose who enters and kick them out when they don't fulfil! Oh no! This is the _Marauders_, and no one unworthy should even think of the inner sanctum! Once a Marauder, always a Marauder, far beyond until death do us part and into the very core of what makes" – he jabbed himself in the chest – "you" – jab – "you." Jab.

Lily swallowed, "Holy moly."

"No! No holy moly! Nothing, except Marauders!"

"I get it, I get it!" Lily insisted, raising her hands against the onslaught (when had they stopped walking) of his eyes and his protective anger.

He fixed her with a piercing glare, "But do you?"

With the flickering torchlight the only thing between them and the night, and the outside world just beginning to pierce through the happy mood James and their room put her in, and the angry man before her and the enormity of his love for his friends, Lily couldn't think. She didn't _understand_ what it was, and she didn't understand why it was important, and she didn't know if she wanted it.

"No," she admitted, "No, I don't."

Sirius seemed to deflate, "Good, because, no offense, Evans, but you'll never be a part of us. Not properly. You'll only ever be..."

"James' bird," Lily concluded dryly for him.

Sirius winced, but agreed, "It's nothing personal: and you're the best I can think of for him, not least because you make him happy, but we're too individual, you know?"

Lily smiled, hurt only a little and much more concerned with making sure he knew she held nothing against him, "So what's tonight really then, if not an initiation?"

Sirius blinked, "It's still an initiation."

"Even though I'll never be a part of you?"

Sirius barked a laugh, "Oh, Evans, for a clever girl you're stupid. It was never an initiation into the _Marauders_...this is your initiation to being James' bird!"

Lily's mouth fell open, "Sirius Orion Black don't you dare try _anything_!" She raised one hand warningly, and sparks cascaded from her pocket, where her wand was.

The boy was already walking, cackling madly in a way that did not entirely fill her with ease.

Shit.

* * *

Several hours later, Lily was not entirely sure where she was.

Neither could she remember why she was there, or how she got there. The various twists and turns that they had been shepherded through were lost on her, and the happy, bubbly warmth in the pit of her stomach was telling her not to care.

She giggled at the thought.

Imagine: your stomach telling you what to do.

"Imagine your stomach telling you what to do!" She enthused, turning to the person beside her – who turned out to be Remus.

He gave her a funny look.

"It'd be like," Lily continued, ignoring him and impersonating (well, in her mind) the voice she imagined a stomach would have; a growly, grumbling, yet cheerful sound, "hello person, eat food, drink drink." She snorted with laughter again.

"Ha!" Mary laughed behind her, "Drink drink!"

In a lot of ways, Lily was irrationally happy that someone seemed to appreciate her sparkling humour and wit on the lofty tower they found themselves; but a lot of her didn't care either way. Still – she wasn't completely in control of her actions – she turned towards her new friend (and, hahaha, also her old friend!) with a grin worthy of an award – uncoordinated and sloppy and lopsided but _happy_.

"It'd be like," Mary told Lily, "hello person!"

Lily giggled; she may have genuinely found nothing funnier in her life. "It'd be like 'Food good!'"

"Grumble grumble!" Mary mimicked the noises, her little hands fluttering around her stomach.

Lily roared with laughter, "It'd be like 'Must Digest!'" Through her giggling, she put on a robot voice. She spat out the mouthful of liquid she could not remember drinking, and it sprayed over them both, and over the walls, and over Reginald, who was pink in the face and had just appeared to burrow his face into Mary's neck.

Still laughing, Lily addressed the boy, "Hello, Reginald."

Reginald seemed to be more affectionate when he was drunk: he rolled his face along Mary's neck to peer at Lily, blinking alcohol off of his eyelashes and favouring her with a rare, beaming grin, "Hello, Evans."

Lily was aware enough to be affronted, "What are you calling me Evans for?"

"That's what James calls you," Reginald explained, and kissed Mary on the cheek, softly.

"What does James call who?" James appeared beside Lily, slinging his arm around her shoulder and pulling her tight into his chest. She buried her face there – inhaling the scent of him that was so forest-y and spicy and (and she would never have thoughts so soppy when she was sober) like sunshine – and missed Reginald's meagre explanation; but she didn't miss much, anyway.

Mary and James wondered away, and Lily pulled out of James' arms. She looked up at him. With the moon silhouetted behind him, focusing randomly on the curves of his glasses, and causing every single one of his impossible strands of hair to stand out, and throwing his face into shadow that only served to accentuate the smooth sharpness of it, Lily had never been quite so sure of him. There were more handsome boys (a fact to which Sirius served as a constant, comforting, bamboozling reminder) and more deserving boys (she actually _missed_ the Remus Lupin fancying days) and boys that she could spend time with without the need to murder something every few hours (...and that was almost the entire male population) but there was no other James.

And she wanted James.

"What do you want, James?" Lily whispered, pressing her fingers to jaw line.

His face was frozen from the wind, up high, and her fingers were cold because she had forgotten her gloves; and the skin where they touched burned.

James, eyes crinkled in the corners with that indescribable emotion that scared her as much as it gave her hope, smiled. He ducked his head shyly, and then peered back into her face.

With Lily Evans in the moonlight; he wanted nothing.

"Are you going to Hogsmeade this weekend?" He asked her, lacing their fingers together.

Lily nodded, her voice caught at the roof of her mouth along with her heart.

_Ask me_, she thought – she begged – internally. _Ask me, please_.

James nodded, too. He looked upwards towards the sky, craning his neck backwards (she could see the shadow of stubble there) to glare at the moon, and the clouds coming quickly.

"It'll snow soon," he promised quietly, irrelevantly.

"I've been waiting for that for weeks," Lily replied automatically, quelling the disappointment inside of her. "So I doubt it'll happen this weekend."

James met her eyes, "It'll happen."

Again, Lily's heart staccato-ed; her eyes slipped shut, her head fell back, and James' lips brushed – ever so lightly, pleading and questioning and adoring, - against her cheek, resting just beside her mouth for a moment as he breathed in deeply.

"Happy New Year, Lily," James whispered into her ear, fingers feverishly warm on her collar bone.

* * *

**There yis goes, hope you liked it! Reviews are always, always, always the bestest, so please review! ~Meli**


	21. Let It Snow

**Okay, so I pulled out all the stops to get this to you this quickly! Okay, yes, technically I did find an old document with it already written out, but I still had to retype it because my old computer used AOL and I can't access internet to email it to myself! Be impressed!**

**No, but seriously, this hasn't been proof read or anything, so be ready for numerous mistakes, including my probably calling Will 'Adam' several times because that's what he was originally called (because lets face it TLATs pretty much legit canon by now). Anyway, this is the last you're getting for about three weeks, be warned in advance: hope you like it!**

* * *

The sun was just beginning to drop low in the sky, hidden behind layers of frosty white clouds. The chill bit the air; grass, curling, crunched under their feet.

The group approached mismatched bundles of mismatched people, from different directions, unaware of each other and unaware of what was awaiting them further down the beaten, crumbling track. Some laughter trickled daringly on the frigid breeze; a whisper was lost into a memory.

Ahead, at the point where all their paths converged, a boy and a girl stood.

Locked in their own oblivion, together, his smile was still on, and she lifted a hand to brush down one flyaway tendril of red hair, shocking against the scarcity of their surroundings.

They didn't know their friends were coming: that in less than a moment they would cease to be alone, and become part of the public eye. They didn't know - or perhaps they did – that slowly they inched towards one another.

She knew the warmth of his hand, as his fingers – long and slender and entirely too pretty for him – wound around hers.

He knew the tight feeling in his chest; the thrumming in his pulse; the butterflies in his stomach.

And then, it began to snow.

* * *

The group erupted – long overdue and much needed – into laughter.

"That is _not true_!" Lily laughed in between spurts of giggles, her fingers covering her mouth as pink swept into her face.

"Hand on heart!" Sirius insisted with a grin, placing the said object on the said location and taking a swig of butterbeer at the same time.

"It's true," Will sighed, "I was there." The corner of his mouth lifted in an amused grimace.

"Will!" Marlene admonished, shifting slightly away from her boyfriend with a look of disapproval, "You shouldn't have been out at that time! And _why_ didn't you tell me before?" Her blue eyes narrowed.

Will gulped.

There was no opportunity, however, for Marlene to get the truth from Will, because they were interrupted at that moment by Sirius again: "Oh come _on_ you two! You can't really think a granny's argument can follow up from that!"

"Cheers to that!" Ellie laughed, taking the last sip from her empty butterbeer glass.

"Granny's argument?" Marlene objected, scoffing.

Lily giggled, again, and James shot her an affectionate look that went unnoticed by none, but failed to be commented upon.

"That's what Sirius alls boring conversations," Remus explained, looking at Marlene but for Ellie's benefit.

"You get Granny's arguments, Granny's jokes, Granny's stories, the list goes on," Peter teased Sirius from the fringe, earning approving laughter from James.

Sirius shrugged, accepting the statements.

"We're not Grannies!" Will said, his chin jutting back into his neck at the preposterousness of the accusation.

No one replied.

"We're not!" Marlene insisted.

James nodded, his gaze steadfastly on the table.

Ellie tried not to giggle.

"_Guys_," Will growled, "we're _not_."

"Okay, you're _not_," Sirius agreed, both hands in the air and a mocking expression on his handsome face.

Will looked at Marlene – satisfied that he had solved the situation – and as he did so James glanced up and caught Lily's eyes.

But they are, he mouthed at her.

Laughter bubbled out of her, drawing the attention to the pair of them.

"What?" Marlene asked, her tone slightly wary.

"Nothing." They replied in unison.

There was a pause, a beat, of silence amongst them where they all understood – but maybe didn't realise - a simple truth: there was never nothing between Lily and James.

"I'll get the next round in," Ellie got to her feet, her tiny frame immediately swamped by the crowd.

Remus craned his neck, his brow furrowing so that he could see her safely all the way to the bar, where he watched her for a moment longer. Her hair twisted into a plait over the far shoulder, and her neck – slender and unmarked – drew his gaze along its lines to her face. Torch light mingled with the meagre light from the window to throw mismatched shadows across her cheeks; she bent her neck, biting her lips, and –

James coughed, loudly, and with a start Remus jerked to attention, heat rushing to his face as he saw that they all watched him with the same exasperated, adoring triumph on their faces.

"What?" He pretended ignorance, and for once his voice did not betray him and crack.

"Oh, nothing," James smiled sweetly. If Remus were anyone else – apart from Sirius and Peter...and maybe Lily – he might not recognise that smile. It was innocent and gentle, caring and earnest; it was James' you're-so-about-to-get-busted smile. "Just thought you'd zoned out for a minute there." He smiled – that dratted smile! – again.

"Something catch your fancy?" Lily asked.

"Interesting painting, perhaps?" Sirius queried.

"Long-lost friend?" Peter joined in.

"Or were you deciding what drink you wanted?" Will wanted to know.

"I think her was thinking about the Transfiguration essay." Marlene commented, faux serious.

James allowed just the right amount of time – really, a career on the stage would have been perfect for him. Time for Remus just to come up with an appropriate reply ("yes, the Transfiguration essay, hard, wasn't it?") but not enough time for him to actually become part of the conversation.

"Or maybe you were just staring at Ellie," he finished triumphantly.

"Again," Sirius chipped in, smirking.

Warmth flooded Remus' pale cheeks, turning them ruddy with embarrassment. He stared at the table, fingers clenched tight around his tankard and sandy blonde hair falling into his blinking eyes. He had no defence.

"Shut up," he muttered, but it was more out of courtesy for propriety (though in present company, propriety was more something to mock than to adhere to) than as to make any real impact.

He was embarrassed and ashamed – was it so strange that he should like someone? And he knew she was too good for him – she was so beautiful, and kind, and clever, and he was...a werewolf. Maybe it was stupid. Nothing would ever happen; nothing _could_ ever happen. He was unworthy; a monster. He would be alone forever, and that was how it should be.

A hand, ever so gentle, pushed the top of his hand, brushing a self inflicted scar.

"Remus," James said quietly, "we like her."

Remus raised his eyes, meeting James' hazel ones; for once sincere. Sirius nodded, and Peter made a vague noise of agreement. Lily's fingers closed briefly over his.

"Really, Marlene emphasised.

Remus swallowed.

And because he would never be alone, and he knew it, he told them: "I like her, too."

* * *

"Bye!" Will called for the last time, throwing a casual wave over his left shoulder as his arm wrapped tightly around Marlene.

The four remaining ignored him.

Lily was well aware of the incredulity of the situation: not even a year ago, she would have not been seen dead with three of the four Marauders (and the one she _would_ be seen dead with was absent) and here she was, not only alive but enjoying herself.

"So what now?" She burrowed her palms into her oat for warmth.

Sirius stretched, observing her with a slightly predatory look. She could see why so many girls fell for him – there was no denying his looks. But now, with his shirt riding up to expose a strip of stomach and his features crunched into his signature easy grin, his hair the only one not ruined by the fierce wind, she had never fancied him less.

Actually, she glanced at James hair and smothered a giggle, maybe Sirius' hair wasn't the only one not messed up – James' had been messy to start with.

"Does it ever lie flat?" She reached up, pressing both palms to his scalp and laughing as it sprang back up the moment she released.

"Not for the likes of you," James replied, his face deadly serious.

"Oh?" She put her hands on her hips – and immediately wished she hadn't; it was so _cold_.

James shrugged, "Shouldn't have been mean to it all those years," he commented, tilting his head back to stare at the sky.

"So why don't _you _make it lie down?" She challenged, jumping up onto a nearby bench to gain a height advantage.

"Won't for me, either," James intoned solemnly, looking up at her. She rather liked his face from this angle.

"Oh? Why not?" She returned his mock seriousness.

James looked up at her, Lily, with her hair flying around her face that he knew so well, and her eyes bright and _happy_ as she looked at him. His heart ached and, quite without meaning to, he said something close to the truth.

"Because I listened to you when you were mean to it."

It hung between them in the air for a split second – far too late to recall it, but still not quite at the stage where it could not be avoided.

"Well, I'm off!" Sirius interrupted, and both James and Lily jumped.

They hadn't forgotten he was there, of course, it was just a momentary...forgetting he was there.

"Hot date," he wiggled his eyebrows meaningfully.

"Oh, yeah," James sounded like he was coming out of a trance, and when Lily looked at him his brow was puckered, his eyes confused. "Sarah?" Her James asked, but he already knew and Sirius didn't bother to answer.

"And I have a detention," Peter said, grimacing, "Stupid Mrs Norris."

Lily laughed, and was that her voice?

"So, see you," James said. When had this become so awkward? The final two Marauders vanished, and it was just the red haired girl and the black haired boy, alone on a quiet corner with people bustling around them.

"So, you going to leave me too, Evans?"2 James joked.

What was wrong with him? He had been alone with girls so many times! He had been alone with _Evans_ so many times!

And they were just friends.

Friends.

"You_ still _ call me Evans!" She pointed out, still on the bench.

He looked surprised, though by then he shouldn't have; the Evans thing had come up before.

"I've always called you Evans!" He justified himself, "But Lily, then."

Her heart did _not_ skip a beat as her name fell from those lips. Her eyes lit up, even more so than they had been before – and James thought with a sigh that there was nothing more beautiful to see, nothing more worthwhile to be the cause of, then her eyes when they came alive like that.

Who was he kidding?

She would never just be his friend.

* * *

"Are you close to your mum?" Ellie was asking. Her voice was so lovely.

"Yeah, quite," he replied, his mind not on the question. He had just noticed a freckle below her right ear – it was the only one she had.

She noticed his inattention, and mistook it for upset, "Sorry. It's just that I noticed you visit her a lot."

Something leapt inside Remus – something that he had never felt before and was not sure he wanted to feel again. She had noticed what he did?

Of course, she had thought he was visiting his mother, when the truth was that he was a werewolf.

Remus took a careful step away, "She gets ill." His voice was curt, and he saw the apology in her eyes before she could say it.

He wished he could take his words back.

"Remus!"

_HolyMerlinThankGodandBabyJes us_, Remus blasphemed inside his head and turned gratefully towards Mary, who was exiting the post office with an unaware smile on her face.

One hand was inside a bag, held by Reginald, and before anyone said anything else she pulled out a blue sweet and popped it into her mouth.

"Have you tried them?" Reginald offered the bag, "They're new today!"

"They've Acromantula venom in them," Mary cut in, licking her lips. Remus noticed that Reginald's eyes followed the path of her tongue.

"They don't really," Reginald assured them, as Ellie took her own sweet and cautiously sucked on it.

Her eyes widened – they were so _blue_ – and she smiled, "Try it Remus!"

How could he refuse that?

The treat was sweeter than he usually liked, fizzing slightly on the tip of his tongue and he understood the Acromantula story, for threads of feeling raced over his skin, like the legs of thousands of tiny spiders.

"Wow," he agreed, despite himself.

"Good, right?" Mary enthused.

The quartet stood, shivering slightly, absorbing the sweets.

"Where are the others?" Mary asked finally, when things had gone past the comfortable stage and entered awkward. "And why – no offense –are you here, Ellie?"

"The others are in the pub-" Remus answered the first part of the question.

Ellie finished: "And, I –Merlin, this is so embarrassing – am with Remus because the friend I was _going_ to come with today is ill, and he accosted me at breakfast and – upon finding that out – invited me. I _was_ under the impression it was a group thing, but he's wheedled me away to have all to himself." She smiled at him brightly, jokingly.

Remus swallowed.

"Well, we're going to gawk at the Shrieking Shack, do you want to come?" Mary did not seem that interested in their story, in typical Mary fashion.

Remus didn't _want_ to visit the Shack (he had spent enough time in close acquaintance with the rickety old building to last a lifetime) but Ellie seemed to brighten, and he liked it when she was happy. It might be refreshing to look upon his monthly home alongside a fresher pair of eyes, anyway.

"Yes, let's go," he agreed.

* * *

"And she was like, 'what?'" Sarah burst into laughter.

Sirius, his chin poised on one palm and his cool grey eyes appraising his date, laughed, too.

What was she talking about?

He had ceased to pay attention – the tale of Sarah's friend (who Sirius didn't know) and her mother (who Sirius didn't know) and her boyfriend (who Sirius didn't know) failed to entertain him; perhaps because of its content but mainly because Sarah's – how had he not noticed this before? – voice was like hinges that needed oiling.

"So he explained again-"

Nails on chalkboard.

"-but she still didn't get it!"

Chair legs on polished floor.

"And I'm like, 'babe, you're so stupid!'"

Mice, being tortured.

"So I spoke to him-"

Bats, if you could hear them.

"And it turned out-"

Violins being played by the tone deaf.

"That he was actually in love with me!"

"No way!" Sirius leapt in, his eyes widening and an incredulous smile curling into his features.

"I know!" And her tone – her insipid, painful tone – sounded like it did.

"Wow," but Sirius doubted that she understood – or could spell – sarcasm.

Sarah leant into him, her big blue eyes angelic and deceiving. Her low cut top and her body angle allowed him to see more of her than was probably decent – but definitely intended. Her tongue licked her lower lip slightly.

For a moment, Sirius considered staying. On the plus side: Sarah was beautiful, and available, and definitely up for it; she wasn't one of those girls who didn't understand that Sirius Black was a onetime endeavour, and clung on.

On the down side: "So guess what happened next?" Sarah drawled.

"OHMYGOD!" Sirius leapt to his feet, peering out of the window, "s that Remus?"

Sarah began to turn around, but by that time Sirius was already shaking his head and searching through his pockets in search of the few galleons he owed towards the bill.

"He looked so ill!" Sirius bit back a shudder in his voice conspicuously, blinked several times too many and glanced at the window again.

"Oh no!" Sarah did not sound particularly worried for Sirius' friend; the pout was real now, and the frown that crossed her forehead was borne of petty annoyance at her ruined date.

"You don't mind me going after him, do you?" Sirius asked, pausing slightly, "It's just that he's been really sick recently and he was all alone."

Sarah didn't have any choice, and they both knew it. She could no more refuse Sirius' plea to help his friend than she could change Sirius' mind about the irritation qualities of her voice.

"Of course not!" She simpered up at him, but he was already striding across the room, shrugging into his jacket without bestowing her a kiss on the cheek.

Once outside, Sirius breathed a sigh of release. He had escaped.

He really should thank Remus later.

Chuckling to himself at the absurdity of Remus leaving Ellie's company for a trifling thing such as illness, Sirius popped his collar up and strolled down the walkway, checking out the talent that he now needed to fill. None of them really took his fancy – not today.

He stuck his head inside of Zonko's, scanning quickly for a head of unruly black hair or an unusually tall sandy haired boy with an unusually small brunette girl, but there was no one there.

Maintaining his chilled pace, his paused only to buy a wad of eye-colour changing gum, so that when he walked he could chew on it and it would complete the look.

Where _was_ everyone?

Sirius took a long look around the main road, and just when he was about to give up and go to mess up Peter's detention:

"Sirius!"

Hayley surprised him from behind, and he jumped slightly. Never the type to get embarrassed – or, at least, never the type to colour because of it – Sirius simply raised his eyebrow after the momentary revelation of vulnerability; even when he saw that Hayley was smirking at him.

"Hayley," he replied, deadpan.

"Have you met Kingsley?" Hayley asked, drawing Sirius' attention to the man beside her: tall and dark skinned, Kingsley was young but had the solidity about him that implied age.

At first glance, Sirius was not impressed. He dressed in conservative clothes – plain colours with no emblems, smart-casual; he stood upright, but unobtrusively. There was nothing _offensive _about him, there was just no personality either.

At second glance, Sirius noticed the earring.

Perhaps, just maybe, he would tolerate Kingsley enough to get to know him better. And also, Hayley liked him, which was – if not a reliable recommendation – an interesting one at least.

"We've met," Sirius said shortly, not wanting to elaborate.

"Yes, I stopped them fighting in Diagon Alley, remember?" Kingsley said, "The day we met?"

Of course, Hayley had already known that; but at least this sly digging was a step upwards from the frosty silence she had greeted him with since their talk after the feast (and Sirius would bet that this communication was entirely for Kingsley's benefit, to show him what a lovely and friendly and sociable girl Hayley was). So, he didn't care much about Hayley's involvement in the situation.

With Kingsley, however, he pushed down a surge of annoyance. Had he done that on purpose, or was he stupid? He didn't want to think about that time – it had been the worst of his life, and if could have his way it would be obliviated from his memory.

"So, Hayley, he'd kind of different to James," Sirius gestured to Kingsley imperiously.

Hayley's eyes narrowed, and Sirius raised an eyebrow in reply. The deal was easy enough to see – if Hayley controlled her man, Sirius would control his mouth. Even Kingsley, eavesdropping on the silent conversation, understood.

"That's actually who we're looking for," Kingsley said, as if nothing revealing had been said, "I have a message from his mother."

Sirius felt the beginnings of real, deep annoyance – Grace couldn't just _write_ to her only son?

"Do you know where he is?2 Hayley asked, and twined her fingers into Kingsley's.

Sirius _didn't_ know where James was, and moreover he didn't really want to find him – there was a shift in the air; something was about to change for his best friend and Sirius (selfishly, he acknowledged) still didn't want anything to change. He would leave things up to fate – though he didn't believe in it – he decided. He would check the map, and if James was still with Evans – _only_ with Evans – they would go to find him (Sirius liked her, truly, but he didn't trust her around James) but if they were in the company of anyone else, he would leave them be.

Not that he wasn't happy for them; and that he didn't recognise that it was inevitable where things would go (though he didn't believe in inevitability) but couldn't they just slow things down?

"I just need the toilet, be back in a minute," Sirius ducked into the nearest shop.

"I'm sure Dervish and Bangs doesn't have toilets," he heard Kingsley murmur, as the door shut behind him.

Ah, well.

With a quick, furtive look around (that blonde in the corner was a bit fine, wasn't she?) he pulled the map from his back pocket and tapped it once.

He always felt a generous helping of pride as the delicate, inky fingers stretched across the parchment. It was just so _clever_; really, they were very dedicated to rule breaking.

He rarely needed to use the added feature, but he still knew the words easily and, more importantly, the map knew when one of its masters was using it – and responded. Moving to the side, leaving Hogwarts behind and focusing on Hogsmeade – the map drew his eyes to the bottom left corner.

James and Lily were by the Shrieking Shack.

And, though they appeared to be heading that way, Remus and the others were not with them.

Well, that was that.

Sirius ducked out of the shop and smiled at Hayley and Kingsley.

"All done?" Kingsley asked sarcastically (Sirius was really beginning to get angry with this person, though he could see why Hayley – being a sarcastic person herself – would like him).

"Quite. James is by the Shrieking Shack," he addressed Hayley, who smiled tightly back. "Shall we go?" And he led the way.

* * *

Marlene and Will were happy when they came out.

Firstly, Will had just bought Marlene a charming pair of Quidditch gloves, which although not Potter standard, were good enough for her to use when she painted in the holidays.

Secondly, the snow had held off. If there was one thing they were both absolutely sure about it was that snow was horrid. It was all well and good in novels, where dashing men and beautiful women came together in romantic settings and the world seemed a little brighter, but in reality it looked nice for five minutes, before it turned brown and slushy, and stupid first years insisted on throwing it around. And it made people's faces turn red. And it was cold/

Thirdly, they were together. And that was all that mattered.

"Were not Grannies!" Will was ranting passionately, one fist pounding into the air (for his other hand – the usual receptor of his hands point – was occupied keeping Marlene's warm)

"No," Marlene cuddled closer to him, blowing the end of his red scarf away from her face and smiling.

"We're _not_," Will muttered, disgruntled.

"Of course not," Marlene soothed, and they drew to a halt as she turned to face him.

They stood for a moment, chest to chest, hands intertwined; just smiling at one another.

"You look nice," Will whispered to her, his low voice enveloping her in its love.

"You look cold," she replied, without missing a beat.

And, to be fair, it was true. His nose was pink and his muscles tensed, his neck disappeared into the scarf and his coat was zipped.

He was adorable.

Will laughed, "Well thank you sweet one."

"Welcome," Marlene breathed, burying her face in his chest.

Again the stood, locked in their own privacy, before pulling apart.

"So, what shall we do?" Will asked her, rubbing the back of his head. They had visited the post office that morning, to send an express delivery to one of Wills cousins in Columbia – and run into Mary and Reginald entering as they left – and they had visited Zonko's, which was new and convinced Will that James and Sirius had (as the Hogwarts rumour mill was spreading) set it up; they had seen their friends for butter beers but now they had no future plans to meet up again and – more importantly – had no idea where they were.

"Back to the castle?" Marlene suggested, turning in that direction automatically.

Will raised an eyebrow (in the cold, with his face turning a pinked colour, his eyebrows stood out more visibly; that pale, pale blonde), "And you say you're not a Granny."

Marlene opened her mouth to retort, but nothing came out. A strange expression mulled over her face – surprise mixed with confusion, with a dash of astonishment to complete."Oh my God, I'm a Granny!" he gasped out finally, turning to her boyfriend with her eyes wider than he had seen in a while.

Will nodded sagely.

"What do we _do_?" Her long fingers wrapped around the lapels of his jacket – his heart hiccupped.

What _could _they do? What would make them less...Granny-ish. Will guessed the opposite of what made them Grannies (sensibly) - less lazing around in pyjamas, less making hot chocolates and doing homework the night it was set. Surely they wouldn't have to give up going on walks ever weekend, or reading to each other before going to sleep at night?

Merlin, they were such Grannies!

"Change, I guess. Like, no more weekend walks."

Her face reflected his own inner pain and horror at the thought.

Grannies.

"So, what, like, every other week?"

Grannies.

"We should probably cut it to once a month."

"And do our homework later?"

Grannies.

"Yeah."

They stood – more than a little upset – and thought it over.

"So, what do we do now then?" Marlene asked finally, not looking at Will.

Now that they couldn't be Grannies: "Maybe a firewhiskey?"

Will _hated_ firewhiskey; but that was Granny-ish, right? Teenagers were meant to drink alcohol, and act stupid, and break rules. They walked – and there was a bit more stiffness to their usual carefree strides – to the Three Broomsticks for the second time that day. There were no tables in the low-lit room, but that was fine because cool young teenagers didn't need a table. They would drink at the bar, and get eyed up by disgusting 40-something year old men who had lost everything gambling and maybe start a fight. Definitely tell a few lies. Laugh too loudly. Get drunk. PDA.

"Two firewhiskeys please," the words sounded forced from Will's mouth as he placed coins on the wood.

Monsieur Christophe barely glanced at him – if there was anything cool that Will could claim to, it was that he looked so young people assumed he was older than he was.

"Wajawan?" Monsieur threw over his shoulder, pausing at the taps which Will assumed held the vile liquid.

"Two firewhiskeys please," he repeated politely.

The disgusting 40 year old man beside them stopped staring at Marlene's legs and looked at Will, as did Monsieur.

"Wajawan?" The short French man asked again.

Marlene and Will exchanged a look: hadn't Will just said what they wanted?

"Two firewhiskeys!" He enunciated more clearly; the man was French after all.

Several pairs of beady eyes, two moustaches, too many sets of unwashed hair and one stunning blonde witch who was several years older than them and dressed expensively gawped at him.

"Wajawan!" Their closest neighbour nearly roared, spit landing furiously on Will's cheek.

"It's the most common brand of firewhiskey," a well dressed man took a pipe – it had a face on it, too, which also looked at Will like he was stupid – from his mouth to tell them.

Oh.

Will wiped the spittle from his face awkwardly, "Yes, Wajawan, of course!" He blustered, blushing profusely.

Marlene laughed along with everyone else, and he shot her a look of betrayal. The two bottles were rested gently in front of them (really, they weren't completely incompetent) and, to both teens' horror, none of the other punters looked away. They watched don, eager to see how the obviously firewhiskey-virgin teens would react.

Bugger.

"Well," Marlene lifted her bottle, determined not to be put off, "here's to not being Grannies!"

("Yeah!" A chubby lady at the other end cheered, winking at them, before she was shushed by the man with the pipe, who looked like all his Christmases had come at once, and obviously did not want to be distracted from a second of this).

Will clinked her bottle with his, and raised it to his lip.

And immediately – perfectly synchronised with his girlfriend, as always – he sprayed it all over Monsieur and his too-large-too-bushy greying moustache.

"That's disgusting!" Marlene cried over the raucous laughter of their audience.

"How can you drink that?" Will rasped out, still coughing.

The punters just laughed on.

Will got his breath back and, eventually, his senses began to function again – he noticed the coolness of the bar beneath his gripping fingers, he heard the chatter behind of people who _hadn't_ seen, and he smelt the mixture of drinks before him.

And, surrounded by all these people – so mismatched, so incredibly different from one another – Will – young, gullible, gentle, caring, firewhiskey hating Will – received another epiphany, and a conclusion.

The epiphany: everyone was different.

He'd known it all along; everyone knew that. Everyone _was_ different – brothers liked different things although they had the same hair colour; two best friends could like the same book though they hated the same music; people had different eye colour, likes, IQ, backgrounds. People could belong to the same group, or a different group, or no group at all.

And there Will was, amongst this group of odd drinkers. And each one was different to the next. And? Just because one liked chess didn't mean that they were any less part of the same drinking group. Just because one didn't fancy blondes didn't mean the blonde lady couldn't stay, too.

Will and Marlene were Grannies, and that was his conclusion.

They were Grannies.

Will picked up his firewhiskey again (all eyes reverted back to him, including Marlene's).

"And _here_, "is to _being _Grannies!" And he took a swig. They were Grannies, and for the first time he would be proud of that.

"Yeah!" The chubby lady called again, and this time the pipe man grinned along.

"You know what?" Will raised his voice (Monsieur shushed a girl come to collect butterbeer for her table). "Who cares if we do our homework on time? Who _cares_ if we like taking walks?" Confidence suddenly buoyed his up, and he stood taller, looking each in the eye, "I'm just Will Selwyn, and I'm just going to keep on being Will Selwyn. I don't like firewhiskey, I like hot chocolate. I love my girlfriend, Marlene. I'm scared of thunderstorm, and when I stay up late it's because I'm reading a novel, probably Bronte, that I like. So–for-the-love-of-Merlin-what? And Sirius Bleeding Black can go take his anti-Granny-ism and preach somewhere else. Cos I don't care." He took another swig of the alcohol, aware of the irony.

No one spoke.

Bugger, what had he done?

"Cheers to that!" The blonde woman spoke for the first time.

And, with that, the bar erupted.

"Yeah!"

"Cheers to that!"

"Well said!"

The calls came around and round, elevating Will. His back was smacked, his cheek was pinched, and at some point his drink was stolen, but he didn't care.

"Quiet!" Marlene shouted, throwing up both hands.

Her eyes were bright, her skin glowed, and her hair – plaited back as was her current style – caught the light she was emitting in a golden halo around her face.

She turned to Monsieur, "Can I have a round of hot chocolate, please?" And then she kissed him.

Four rounds of hot chocolate and many, many toasts later, Will and Marlene slipped out, still laughing.

"I can't believe that just happened!" Marlene laughed.

"Incredible!" Will hooted to the sky.

They staggered, still high on their own freedom, along a path. They didn't notice when cobbled paving changed to dirt, for they were recounting to each other – though it was only minutes since and both had been there.

"You know!" Will told her loudly, "That fit blonde pinched my bum!" He chortled – not without certain apprehension.

But Marlene only laughed, ringing out amongst the trees they had not realised they had entered, "You know, the fit blonde pinched _my_ bum!"

They laughed, and only stopped when they walked straight into Mary.

"Ow!" She complained, turning to glare at her friends.

"Sorry, Mare!" Will giggled.

"You'll never guess what just happened!" Marlene joined hysterically. But they never got to recount their tale, because, at that very moment, two things happened.

Firstly, a single snowflake landed exactly on the tip of Marlene's nose.

Secondly, they saw Lily and James.

* * *

"I can't believe it hasn't snowed once!" Lily grumbled, glaring at the clouds as though they were deliberately keeping something (snow, in this case) from her. "Not _once_," she stamped her foot, just to make her point.

James chuckled, loping alongside, "I don't know, my house elf used to say that it only snowed if you really wanted it, and you were really good."

"Lemons?"

James nodded.

The things that boy came out with sometimes: like it was completely normal to have a house elf that conned him into behaving well, or that he had four houses, or that he could traditional ballroom dance.

Ridiculous.

And he just shrugged, often.

"I had a bike," Lily told him smugly, "and a television."

James gave her an odd look, "Broomstick."

"Postman."

"Floo powder."

"School bus."

"Self-tidying bedroom."

"Hoover."

"Self restocking fridge!"

"Cars!"

"Unicorns in the back garden!"

"Dogs!"

James laughed, "Evans, _we_ have dogs!"

"_Lily_," Lily reminded. "And _we_ have...wait," she whirled to face him, her lips hanging open, "_unicorns_?"

At least this time James had the grace to look modest, "Tulip has a thing for cool wildlife."

She stared – _Merlin_ she was lovely – and he stared back.

"A unicorn." She repeated finally.

James nodded.

She took several deep breaths – he averted his gaze from her heaving breasts, just in case she caught him staring.

"Okay," she shrugged, turning away with a shake of her head.

Sometimes, their worlds were just too far apart for her to understand. Bloody unicorns!

"Is Tulip another house elf?" She asked, once they had resumed their stroll. James glanced at her – he did that often.

"Yeah, there's Lemons, Tulip and Twitchet, whose Tulip's daughter."

Lily smiled at that.

"And Lemons thinks I don't deserve snow?" She teased, and pushed her hair back from her face so that she could watch him answer.

"I didn't say that!" James insisted with a grin, "And neither would Lemons."

"Your house elf thinks I'm not good enough, is that it?" Lily insisted, and again – only twenty metres from the last place – they stopped.

"I didn't _say_ that!" James laughed.

"Well, what did you say, eh?" She growled mockingly, raising her eyebrows viciously.

"I said-"

But Lily wouldn't let him finish: "That I wasn't good enough!"

"No!"

"That I wasn't really good enough!"

"No!"

"That I didn't want it!"

"Yes!"

"That I – what?" She stared, and he grinned back triumphantly.

"You think I don't want snow?"

She actually looked amazed, James marvelled. She did want the snow, and badly (but he would never side with her on that when he had made his stance).

"Well, you've done nothing to prove it other than grumble," he pointed out.

Was there a way he could subtly step away before he got punched?

Again – there seemed to be a lot of repetition on this walk – Lily gazed at him. She didn't seem to be able to reply, and for a minute he thought he would win this one by default (not arguing meant you lost, of course). But she seemed to rally herself, and take on a sarcastic armour, "Oh, and what would your wise little house elf have me do?"

James pretended to think about it. He knew – the idea had been growing since he instigated the argument – but there was little point and no flair to telling her straight away.

"Have you tried any spells?" He asked.

Her scepticism grew, "To change the weather?"

It could be done, of course. There were hexes to make it rain, or be sunny, and surely to make it snow; but they were always localised and short lived. Lily Evans wanted _snow_, and they both knew it.

"Well, what about any potions?"

She didn't even bother answering that.

"Well," James put on a solemn voice, "I think in these circumstances – with no spells and no potions – Lemons would suggest a snow dance."

Lily burst into laughter. A snow dance? Like, voodoo, or like ancient Aztec God chants? Myths. Legends. Fools jobs.

But James wasn't smiling.

"A snow dance?" She asked in astonishment. Was he joking.

But he appeared to be serious – his face drawn and cool, eyes blank of any mischief.

"Aye." No inflection of a joke.

"And what was that, our Scottish impression?"

"Tulip's Scottish." He wasn't joking, he honestly wasn't joking.

"A snow dance?"

"A snow dance."

"A snow dance?"

"A snow dance."

...

"A snow -"

"A snow dance, Evans! A snow dance!" He rolled his eyes.

"_Lily_!" She growled.

"Sorry, a snow dance, Lily," James corrected himself, with another roll of those hazel eyes.

He was mocking her, she was sure. He was always mocking her, and he nearly always won when he did. Well, not this time.

"Okay, so how do we snow dance?"

It was James' turn to gape.

Snow dance? What was she, stupid? Snow dances weren't real! But she looked at him with innocent eyes, and he understood.

So, play him at his own game, would she?

"Well," he kept his mask of calm, "first you stamp your right foot twice." He demonstrated. "And then you clap your hands." Again, he showed her. Her lip twitched.

Encouraged, he livened up: "They you chant: Snow, snow, come to me, snow – over and over as you..." he stopped talking as he executed a number of stamps and turns, clapping occasionally, jumping occasionally and even once dropping down to pat the floor.

He looked at her seriously, "Your turn."

Lily laughed, looking around, "There's no way!"

He just raised his eyebrows.

"James, no way! We're in public!"

He looked around, completely silent, at the empty clearing they were in.

"Anyone could come!"

But he continued to watch and wait.

And she crumbled, as he knew she would.

Dropping her bag to the floor, she took a few steps to join him and he took both her hands.

"Remember the chant?" he asked, grinning.

"Actually, I don't think so," she deadpanned, taking another look around.

"Scared, Evans?"

"Lily!"

"Lily! Sorry! Scared though?"

She scoffed, "Of some dance?"

James leant in, his lips in her shocking hair and his breath on her ear. Her heart hiccupped, and she couldn't deny it this time. She was suddenly worried – for the hands he held she was sure were suddenly sweatier, "Of being seen."

And then he was gone, and the challenge hung between them.

It was her move.

"Snow, snow," she began, stamping her right foot.

"Come to me snow," James joined in, and they clapped.

Every insecurity fell away: she forgot to check, as she span, to see if they were being watched; she forgot to tense as his hands clasped hers while they stamped; and for his part, he allowed his laughter to ring up from his stomach, rumbling through the pair of them. The single tear one of them cried was crushed beneath their happily dancing feet.

Eventually, she collapsed.

Laughter brought a stitch to her side, which she grabbed from the pain. He was bent double over her, laughing, and he hauled her to her feet before she was ready, so that she had to lean her slender frame against his larger one as they shook.

"It's not snowing," she pointed out. "Guess the house elf was wrong."

James snorted, "Please; like Lemons would ever advocate a snow dance. That was all James Potter."

She knew that – she knew _him_ – but she acted scandalised anyway.

He was good looking though, with his back against the forest background and his eyes so full of laughter she was sure that it couldn't be healthy. No wonder he had bad eyesight.

Speaking of.

Without a word – of warning or otherwise – Lily leant forwards and snatched the item off his face.

His spectacles, so delicate and important, in her hands.

"Evans," he stretched a severe hand towards her, but there was a note of panic in his voice and a squint to his eyes that she relished.

She ran.

"Evans!" He called, and she heard him begin to give chase. He was faster than her – by a long way – but the forest floor was speckled with twigs, logs, and other mishaps that obstructed the partially blind boy.

"Evans!" He was calling desperately behind her, but she kept running until she bounded into the fence before the Shrieking Shack, crying with laughter.

"I'm going to kill you," he grumbled affectionately, grabbing her by her waist.

She laughed, and leant towards him as she slid the glasses up his classically straight noise into the right place.

As James' vision focused, he because aware of just how close she was – those brilliant green eyes only centimetres away from his one; those lips close enough to...

He should pull away.

He knew that.

This was bad for him – for his heart, for his head, for his sleep that night and every night for the rest of the month.

Lily Evans should not be that close.

But he couldn't pull away.

Over a ridge, Marlene and Will joined Mary, Remus, Reginald and Ellie. They were laughing, telling stories.

To the other side – the side that James and Lily themselves had come from – Sirius lead Donna and Kingsley in their direction.

James and Lily didn't know any of that.

They didn't remember – or care to – the past six years spent hating each other; the arguments, the grudges, the vendettas.

They didn't even really remember this past year – their gradual, fragile friendship. Being heads together.

James stopped feeling guilty about his dad, Lily stopped missing Petunia.

It was just him, and her.

His fingers wound around hers.

Her hair was pushed from her face, but his fingers pulled it back, rubbing it delicately before moving to cup her jaw.

And then the snow hit them and – like a reflex – they looked upwards. It swirled down to them, around the, bringing with it the old and the wind, and the gentility.

"I don't believe it!" Lily gasped, taking a step away from James, opening her arms to the elements.

"I don't _believe_ it," and she was laughing, and twirling, and pulling him along with her. And he was laughing, too, although it felt like his heart would burst from his chest.

The red head girl stopped, suddenly.

White clung to her eyelashes, to her fiery hair, and she tenderly pushed it out of his won raven black locks.

"You made it snow, for me," she whispered.

And then she kissed him.

* * *

**I knooooow, okay, I know this is hopelessly cliched and soppy and gushy and twelve-year-old-girl, but that's just how I imagine it and I loooooove them so much! This one's for QueenElizabeth3andCourtJeste r, because she's finally getting a kiss and in the hopes that she'll beat slenderman soon ;)**

**Please review! ~Meli**


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